The Theory of Relativity
by DefyGravity18
Summary: After Howard and Bernadette's wedding, Penny must face some hard truths and do some growing up of her own. Easier said than done. A series of unfortunate events can lead to the most fortunate of outcomes. S/P, L/A, H/B canon compliant.
1. Tick, Tick, Tick

**So, I said I wasn't going to write another multi-chapter Sheldon/Penny fic. Yeah, I'm a filthy liar. I'm predicting around 20 chapters. We all know how THAT can turn out. See The News Article Significance...all 42 chapters of it. **

**What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment. Sue me. **

* * *

**Relativity**

_n._

**1. **A state of dependence in which the existence or significance of one entity is solely dependent on that of another.

**2. **(Physics / General Physics) either of two theories developed by Albert Einstein, the **special theory of relativity**, which requires that the laws of physics shall be the same as seen by any two different observers in uniform relative motion, and the **general theory of relativity** which considers observers with relative acceleration and leads to a theory of gravitation

* * *

Three minutes will determine the rest of my life.

One hundred and eighty seconds.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. _

It's funny how time moves slower when you're watching it, but it feels like I've been staring at my cell phone for a year, but it's only been about thirty seconds.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. _

One line is negative. Two is positive. One minute down. How could I have let this _happen?_ I'm always careful. I'm meticulous with my pills. I insist on using protection. Yet, here we are. One week late for a period that's been as reliable as the orange color of Snooki's skin since I was seventeen years old.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. _

The first sex I'd had in almost a year and I might have a possibly lactose intolerant bun in the oven. One minute left. In sixty seconds I'll know how I'm going to spend the rest of my life. Leonard and I might be tied together for the rest of our lives whether we're ready or not. And by _we, _I mean _me, _considering the guy freaking proposed to me in the midst of said possible conception.

Damn it.

_Ten, nine, eight…_

That horrible terrifying vision I had back in February may come eerily to life, making me forget why I said yes to the Beta Test to begin with.

_Seven, six, five…_

My father is going to _kill_ me. I guess it's true what they say. Like Mother like daughter. My mother got pregnant with my sister after two months of dating my father. My sister got pregnant at fifteen with _her_ son. And now, in a surprise attack at age twenty-six, comes little Penelope with her bastard.

_Four, three, two…_

Deep breaths, Penny.

_One. _

Swallowing my fear, I set my phone down and reach for the disgusting little pee stick. And I immediately go limp with relief as I see one pink line. I feel myself begin to laugh, feeling every tense muscle in my body relax as I toss the offending object into the trash and wash my hands, before splashing cool water on my flushed face. When I look up into my tired green eyes, the smile immediately leaves my face. That's when I burst into hysterical tears.

Not because I'm upset or sad, but because I feel so _guilty_ about being ecstatic that I am _not_ pregnant. Because, I feel horrible about the fact that I am relieved I don't _have_ to spend the rest of my life with Leonard. And it's not that I don't adore the man. He's adorable. He's genuine. He's great in bed. But, this is the second time we've tried to make it work. And it just _isn't._ And I _want_ to love Leonard that way, but I just…don't.

Through my bleary, watery eyes, I find my phone and quickly text my sister, who is probably holed up in her bathroom in Omaha, hiding from her kids and smoking a cigarette.

_Not pregnant._

She must have been waiting, because about ten seconds later, I receive her response.

_Jesus, Pen. Ever heard of a rubber?_

This pisses me off for several reasons. One, because she's a damn hypocrite. I'm twenty-six. She was _sixteen_ when her first was born. Two, because she used to buy into her ex's shitty excuse that condoms gave him hives, so he couldn't use them.

_Have you?_ I answer, rolling my eyes, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and swabbing the pool of tears beneath my eyes. That's when I hear the knocking at my door and look skyward.

Really? You _have_ to do this now? You couldn't wait until tomorrow?

_Knock, knock, knock. _

"Penny!" I don't know why, but I always wait for that third round before opening the door. And there his is. My old buddy. Dr. Sheldon "Whackadoodle" Cooper, six feet two inches of uncontained nut job. A thirty-two year old man with a brain to rival Einstein…dressed like a kindergartener.

"What d'you want?" I sigh, swabbing at my nose with the tissue and seeing him recoil in horror, before swiftly pulling his T-Shirt over his face like a surgical mask.

"Are you ill?" He interrogates, glaring at me as if I've lured him over here under false pretenses. I ponder my response for a moment, because on the one hand, if I say 'yes', he'll retreat back to Fort Moon-Pie. But if I say 'no', he'll sit on my couch and lecture me about how I'm an irresponsible slob who hails from the hills of Nebraska.

So, I just sigh and shake my head, resignedly stepping aside so he can brush past me as I shut the door.

"Have you been crying?" He inquires, eyeing me suspiciously as I sniff unceremoniously and flop onto the couch, shrugging.

"Kind of," I tell him. "It's not a big deal."

"Are you behind on rent again?" If I didn't know better, he'd seem like a concerned friend. "If you are in need of a loan—"

"_No,"_ I growl, shaking my head vehemently.

"Well, I would offer you a beverage, but seeing as this is _your_ apartment, I can't say that I have high hopes that you are even in possession of a tea bag. I've seen your cupboards."

"Okay," I cut him off, giving him a death glare, "You came over _here._ So, what the eff, Shelly? What do you want?"

"Very well," he composes himself, perching on the edge of the cushion and meticulously brushing some invisible dust off of his khaki clad knee, "I came to ask your advice on a matter."

"No you cannot make a relationship work through Skype," I tell him dryly, glancing toward the fridge and feeling my spirits lift slightly at the sight of a bottle of Merlot. Rising I pat Sheldon's head (just because I know it bothers him), and fish around in my cupboard for a clean cup, finding one coffee mug toward the back. It's the Cornhuskers mug my father gave me the last time he came to visit. Okay, so maybe it's not a glassy crystal goblet, but it holds the liquid and I'm going to drink it anyway, so who gives a crap? Plus, it's not like Sheldon drinks anything stronger than Mountain Dew, so who is _he_ to judge?

"Oh, I know," He responds resignedly, "I've tried." Scowling at him, I sit in my armchair and hunch over with my elbows on my knees, grasping my mug and staring expectantly at him. "I kissed Amy."

"Sheldon," I sigh, trying _really_ hard not to roll my eyes, "I know you've kissed Amy. I've seen her kiss you, remember?"

"No, Penny," He tells me soberly, "_I_ initiated the kiss. It was the day of Howard's space launch."

"Oh," I reply blankly, a little dumbfounded, and more than a little disturbed by the image of Sheldon Cooper macking on Amy Farrah Fowler. I mean, good for them. Ya know? The girl's been trying to get in Shelly Bean's pants since 2010. And, for someone who claimed to be 'above' baser biological needs, this is kind of huge, even if it will sort of haunt my nightmares until the end of time. I love Amy and Sheldon, but even_ I_ don't want to watch them suck face.

"Nice," I finally say, giving him an approving nod and taking a long swig of lukewarm red wine. "How was it?"

"It was…" He looks contemplative for a second, "short, dry and lacking," he smirks, "like Leonard." I shoot him a look of warning, raising my fist to remind him that even though he's taller and smarter than I am, I could bring him down with one arm tied behind my back. He knows it too, judging by the way he brings his hand up to protect his throat from my wrath.

"Watch it, Cooper," I tell him in a low voice, feeling bad for my poor, tiny boyfriend.

"It wasn't unpleasant, I must admit," Sheldon adds, watching me warily, "Amy has a pleasant enough smell and acceptable breath." I can only stare at him in disbelief. Most guys would have been like, 'It was _hot._' But this is Sheldon. He doesn't like _touching _people on a good day, so the fact that he kissed Amy is a pretty big step in the right direction, though I doubt she's going to be peeing on any sticks in the near future.

A Shamy baby is a horrifying concept.

Shaking my head to rid myself of the thought, I settle my gaze back on his face and raise an eyebrow.

"So is that it?" I ask, not feeling particularly charitable at the moment. "You and Amy kissed. Anything else?" His eyes narrow, watching me as if he's trying to figure out what I'm thinking.

"I have decided to allow my relationship with Amy Farrah Fowler to progress at a natural pace, provided that she stay within the parameters that I set." He fires this off in a quick fire tumble of words that mean nothing to me as I watch his mouth move with my jaw hanging open like some kind of Neanderthal.

"'Kay," I finally reply, finishing my wine. "Good talk. Use protection." I half heartedly pat his shoulder and head back for mug number two of wine, when I hear him speak again.

"The reason I have sought your advice, Penny, is that I need you to tell me where to take Amy on a date. She has expressed a desire to be 'wined and dined', as it were." The look on his face is so serious, that I crack up, snorting with laughter as I clutch the edge of my kitchen counter.

"You mean, The Cheesecake Factory ain't cuttin' it?" I quip dryly, pouring my drink and pouting my bottom lip as I stare at the now empty bottle while Sheldon releases a long suffering sigh.

"As always, _ain't_ is not a word. It is a colloquialism, and furthermore—"

"Honestly, sometimes I feel like there are three people in the relationship," I tell him, moving back to sit in the chair and cross my legs, "You, Amy and me. Shenamy."

"Clever," he mutters, rolling his eyes and staring at me expectantly.

"Alright, Big Guy," I nod, leaning forward and looking him square in the eyes, "First of all, no chain restaurants. There's something so…_cheap_ about them."

"I beg to differ. The Cheesecake Factory is not exactly—" He stops speaking at my look and gives a little huff before gesturing for me to go on.

"_Second,_ you want a place that serves food you both like. So, sushi is out. Amy finds it horrid. I'm gonna suggest Italian. There's this Bistro near the expressway called Angelina's. It's family owned. A little pricey, but the food is to _die_ for."

"Penny," Sheldon says tiredly, "Doesn't that seem a little extreme? As food is our main source of nourishment, that statement is invalid for a number of reasons."

"Shh," I hiss, using my two fingers to tell him to zip his yapper. "Go to Angelina's. Order a bottle of Lambrusco. She loves it, because it's sweet."

"I don't drink," He scoffs, sounding slightly horrified.

"Bullshit," I snap, pulling out my phone, "Should I remind you about Howard's bachelor party?" I watch as he groans, shaking his head.

"An error in judgment on my part," He concedes haughtily, making me growl in frustration.

"Look, do you _want_ my help or not, Moon-Pie?" I cross my arms, noticing the look of irritation on his face at my use of his Meemaw's nickname for him. Which he hates. And I love to give him hell for. It's so damn easy.

"As always, I would prefer you not call me Moon-Pie as my Meemaw is the only one I allow that privilege. But, I will take your suggestions into consideration." He looks perplexed for a moment, before leaning forward. "Are you sure Amy wouldn't enjoy the exhibit about The Big Bang at the Science Center more?"

It takes every ounce of patience I possess not to give him a swift right hook to the face.

"_Yes,_ Sheldon," I scoff, "I think Amy would enjoy looking at an exhibit about something she has no interest in." His eyes narrow on me, and I know he's trying to figure out whether I'm being sarcastic or not. Whackadoodle. "_Sarcasm,_ you butt."

"Ah," He nods, "I thought so." Wringing his hands and smoothing the fabric of his pants meticulously, he glances toward the door, "Has Leonard taken you to Angelina's Bistro."

"Yeah, we've been a few times," I answer, brushing my long hair out of my face. Sheldon gives me a weird look and shakes his head after a second.

"And you found it to be a pleasant environment? Do you deem it sanitary and up to health code?" He fires at me, making my head spin.

"Whoa, Sheldon. It's great. Real high class. They wash their dishes and everything." I get up and take my empty mug to the sink, sagging against it as the heaviness of my exhaustion settles over me, making my body ache.

"Well, now that we've attended to my matter, I suppose social protocol dictates that I inquire as to why you were distressed before I knocked on your door." This almost makes me laugh, because it would have been so much easier for him to just say 'So what were you blubbering about?' But he doesn't, because it's Sheldon. And Sheldon could make the simplest question a five hundred word essay.

"It's nothing…" I wave my hand dismissively, rubbing at my eyes, but I notice he hasn't budged, waiting expectantly for me to spill the beans. I sigh in defeat, knowing I can do this the hard way or the easy way, so I clasp my hands together and look at the ground like Kristen Stewart does when she accepts a Teen Choice award. "Okay, _fine._ I took a pregnancy test." Sheldon's eyes widen in understanding as he realizes what I just told him.

"Oh."

"Yeah," I swallow, embarrassed.

"And you were upset, because…?" He asks, looking confused.

"I was crying because I felt bad for being happy that I wasn't…that I'm not…" My face crumples again and my eyes begin to burn. "I was glad that I wasn't, because I'm not ready to…I don't want…" I sniff, feeling sick even saying it.

"You don't want to be bound to Leonard by your offspring," he responds knowingly, pursing his lips. "I can't say I blame you. If one were to choose a mate to procreate with, Leonard would not be at the top of any list for a number of reasons. Namely, he has a host of health problems, and—"

"I don't _care_ about his freaking health problems!" I snarl, extremely annoyed, "That's _not_ it! I just don't _love_ him!"

"Penny," Sheldon's voice lowers, and he approaches me cautiously, "I am not implying that Leonard is not a good person or friend. He is, for all intents and purposes, my closest and best friend. But, the fact is, and has remained since the day the three of us met five years ago, that you and he do not suit, and no amount of time or growth will change that. There is a quote from the quintessential classic musical _Fiddler on the Roof; _'A bird may love a fish, but where will they make a home together?'" A small smile plays at the corners of his lips, making him look like a little boy, "My Meemaw adores that film. And that very saying applies to your relationship with Leonard. You are simply too different." My eyes begin to water again on their own, ands my lower lip quivers uncontrollably, because he's right. And I _hate_ him for it. But, it's never going to work with Leonard, no matter how many Beta Tests we try. And, the thing is, I don't _want_ Leonard to be different, because he is so great the way he is. So, there's only one solution.

I have to let him go.

Because, somewhere out there, there is a girl who is right for Leonard Hofstadter and who will make him happier than I could ever hope to. And that's all I want for him. In a way, it hurts me so badly, because I _do_ want to be that person, but this is the second time I've tried and failed. And I can't do it anymore, because I don't want to hurt him.

I'm crying again, in front of Dr. Doesn't-deal-with-human-emotion, and I don't care. Because this is _his_ fault. He never misses an opportunity to remind me that Leonard and I suck as a couple, and there's really nothing I can say, because he isn't wrong, and it's just not _fair!_ A second passes before I feel a tentative pat on the shoulder, followed by his uncertain voice.

"There, there."

But I don't want comfort…and, as much as I want to be angry with Sheldon, I can't be, because it's not his fault that Leonard and I don't work. Reaching behind me, I swipe a piece of paper towel, sniffing and _probably_ looking completely attractive while doing it (sarcasm).

"Where is Leonard?" I ask, hearing the nasal, teary tone of my voice and cringing.

"He is currently speaking with his mother regarding a seminar that she is giving at Rutgers University next month. He is planning on attending," Sheldon explains, standing with his hands behind his back. "He also expressed his intention of asking you to accompany him to meet his family." I bury my face in my hands, wanting nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear for a while.

"I can't," I whisper, meeting Sheldon's eyes worriedly. He gives a curt nod.

"I know." Checking his watch, he sighs. "It's nearly six o'clock. Amy will be arriving soon. She agreed to watch the film version of _Star Trek _and analyze the inconsistencies with me."

"Oh, uh…lucky her!" I tell him, wiping my nose with the paper towel and tossing it onto the counter. I watch Sheldon's blue eyes flit over and linger on the offending wad of paper as if he's counting down the seconds until he can flee my House O'Germs.

"Well," Sheldon starts backing toward the door, "I'd better go. It's three minutes until six. Shall we expect you for supper?" It's weird, because when he says this, his Texas comes out and I hear him twang a little. If I weren't in such a crappy mood, I would probably snicker. It's kind of cute in a weird, bizarre way. Then again, Sheldon's always been kind of cute in a weird, bizarre way.

Even the first time we met, I thought he was adorable…for like ten seconds. And then I found out he was a nut. Not that I'd trade him or any of the guys (well, maybe Howard). But if he wasn't so – _Sheldon _– he'd actually be kind of…I don't know. Sexy?

And this, ladies and gents, is why I should not drink wine. Because I think stupid thoughts that make no sense.

This is Sheldon. Yeah, he's _technically_ good looking…in theory. But he's a certifiable kook who is utterly smitten with himself on all levels. He's arrogant, selfish and a brat. Yet, we all are still friends with him. Because, as big of a pain as he is, none of us can really imagine life without Sheldon Cooper anymore.

"Yeah, I'll be over in a bit," I finally reply, waving him out and locking the door behind him. I rest my forehead against the cool wood of the door and try to remember what it's like to be sane. I vaguely remember the pregnancy test sitting in my bathroom where I left it, and feel my stomach drop again in relief.

What if it had been positive?

Fast forward eight years. Leonard and I are married, living in Glendale with our eight year old kid, probably a little dark haired boy with glasses who can't eat dairy products. I attend P.T.A. meetings, I drive to soccer games and watch my kid sit on the bench because he's terrified of everything. I cook dinner at night and Leonard comes home from work at the university, kisses me and we spend the evening in silence, before going to sleep on separate sides of our bed. We play our parts. We pretend everything is great.

And we're both miserable.

I know how this story ends, because I've _seen_ it. My parents _live_ it. My mother, the aspiring painter, got pregnant, and thirty-three years later, she is still living in a farm house in Omaha, baking pies and regretting everything. My parents are wonderful, loving people. But they aren't happy. They love their children and their grandchildren, but sometimes, I wonder if they love each other. Sometimes, I wonder if Mom doesn't resent her kids just a little bit…if she sometimes doesn't wish that she could change everything.

I trudge back into the bathroom, and toss the pregnancy test into the trash can, washing my hands and leaning down to start the shower. I make it as hot as I can possibly tolerate, relishing the feeling of scalding water on my skin as if it can wash away the anguish I feel in the pit of my stomach like a lead brick.

After, I sit on my bed wrapped in a towel and stare at the clothes I've picked out for myself, tiredly. I can't seem to find the will to get dressed and walk across the hall. I'm terrified.

_Pull yourself together, dumbass._

I force myself to move and get dressed, pulling my wet hair back into a braid and reviewing my reflection in the mirror. No makeup. No need. It's all going to come off anyway. Glancing back toward the trash can containing the negative test again, I bite my lip and strengthen my resolve to do what needs to be done. I walk across the hall and reach for the doorknob, taking a deep breath as I turn it. Sheldon and Amy are huddled together on the couch in deep discussion about how Spock would never stoop to the level of mere men and engage in a carnal relationship with emotions. (Well, Sheldon is talking and Amy is kind of staring blankly at him, but whatever floats their boat…) Raj is seated on the armchair, clutching a bottle of Blue Moon and reading the DVD case for _Star Trek._

"Hey, you!" Leonard grins, crossing from the counter toward me. I try to smile, but I don't think I'm successful as I hold my hand out to him.

"Hey," I swallow, not allowing myself to look at Sheldon and Amy, who have fallen completely quiet. I'm pretty sure Shelly knows what's coming. I take Leonard's hand, feeling my heart clench painfully as I nod toward the door. "Will you come up to the roof with me for a minute?" Leonard's brows furrow in obvious confusion as he stares at me. He looks over at Sheldon, who immediately looks away.

Thank you, Dr. Obvious.

"Sure," Leonard tells me, looking worried. "Is everything okay?" Biting my lip, I nod. We leave the apartment and head up the stairs. After propping the door open, we step out onto the same roof where Howard married Bernadette (God help her).

"Look," I inhale slowly, looking toward the city hall. "We need to talk." I can hear him sigh resignedly.

"We're breaking up…aren't we?"

* * *

**I will have you all know, that this is entirely Matt's fault for putting this idea in my head and encouraging my crazy. He's a CRAZY ENABLER. All. His. Fault. **

**S**


	2. Who's An Ass? Oh, That Would Be Me

**Thank you for your kind words and for reading this. I am super excited to get back into the Shenny groove. **

**If I could just work on my original stuff the way I can work on this stuff, I might actually be able to scrape up a decent novel. lol! **

**Oh, and please read ALL of MattUF1's stuff. It's all gold. His newest story The Unexpected Combination Hypothesis, Lullaby and The Summer Paradigm Shift along with his completed work The Last of Us. **

**:) **

* * *

I'm an ass.

No, seriously. If breaking up with Leonard had been hard back in 2010, breaking up with him in 2012 was worse. It wasn't because I broke his heart again…it was because he was so damned cool about the whole thing. He told me he understood, gave me a hug and said we would always be friends. Then he left me standing on the roof…where I proceeded to have a meltdown. And the worst part is, he's acting like nothing ever happened. It's making me as nervous as a deer during hunting season.

So _I'm _the douche that's avoiding the guys…again. Since the breakup a week ago, I've taken extra shifts and made sure that any girls' nights are at Amy's. But, now it's Friday and I am screwed, because everyone is going over to 4A for Chinese food and to watch the guys play Nintendo Duck Hunt.

No thanks.

I'll be off work at nine, and I plan on stopping at the Keg & Wine and grabbing me a nice bottle of Diet Mountain Dew and Three Olives' _Dude._ Yes, now they even make vodka that tastes like Mountain Dew. Okay, so I know it's totally not cool to drink alone, but I plan on being on speaker phone with Darcy for a couple hours. (It's kind of a tradition of ours, once a month to watch a movie 'together' and talk on the phone. Tonight is _Romy & Michele's High School Reunion.)_ Darce is living with my parents now, since her soon-to-be-ex husband is banging an eighteen year old. He's a real winner (sarcasm).

In the meantime, I have an hour left, and needless to say, I am not having a great time. It's busy as hell. It's _loud_ as hell. We're shorthanded, because the manager Jerry is a dumbass and keeps hiring seventeen year olds who keep quitting. So, it's me and Nancy and Jill. That's it. For the whole restaurant. Poor Eric is working the bar, which kind of looks like when the zombies close in on someone in _The Walking_ _Dead. _Doesn't help that we have a Bachelorette Party over there. Poor, good-looking bastard.

I give Eric a sympathetic nod as I clear off a table, scowling at the busboy who _should_ be doing the job, but decided to text message his skanky little girlfriend.

"_Sean!"_ I bark, glaring at him and snapping to get his attention. He jumps so violently, he nearly drops his phone. "If I have to do your job one more time tonight, you owe me half your paycheck!" He mutters a half-hearted "Sorry," as I get a tap on the shoulder.

"Sorry to do this to you Penny, but Nancy is absolutely slammed," Our hostess, Ava says to me, blinking her heavily made up eyelashes at me, "Can you take one of her tables?"

"You gotta be kidding," I growl, giving her a pointed look, "You need to hold off seating now until at least two parties leave." Why do _I_ feel like I'm running this place? Where the eff is Jerry? Probably hiding in his office, shakily smoothing his sick comb-over and taking his anti-anxiety meds. "Which table is it?"

"Fifteen?" She swallows nervously, nodding toward the back. Nodding curtly, I pull out my notepad and start toward the table of raucous twenty-something dudes. And I freeze.

_Shit._

My ex is seated at the end of the table, looking more than a little intoxicated already. I swallow my dread and resolve to remain indifferent and professional…ish.

"Hi Guys," I sigh, attempting to sound perky as I give the five guys a withering glance.

"Penny?" Kurt cocks his head and gives me a crooked grin, "Ain't you a sight for sore eyes, Baby Girl?" I suppress the urge to vomit, ignoring him and smiling at the other four, who I vaguely remember from the time we dated as Kurt's poker buddies.

"Can I get you guys something to drink?" I press on, noticing Kurt lift his hand out of the corner of my eye, obviously reaching out to cup my ass cheek. Twisting away, I move out of his reach while the guys all snicker.

"We'll take a pitcher," A blonde guy (I think his name is Jon) pipes in, "Whatever's on draft."

"Bud Light," I reply dryly, swiping at Kurt's hand again when he reaches for me.

"Aw, come on, Baby…for old times' sake," He grins at me. Once, I would have gone weak in the knees at that cocky half smile. Now, it makes me nauseous…or _nauseated_, as Sheldon Cooper would say.

"Not if you were the last man on Earth!" I sing back to him, leaning down so that only he can hear me, "If you don't knock it off, I will make sure your dick ends up looking like a hunter's sausage." He only laughs as I spin on my heel and take off for the bar, feverishly checking the clock. 8:25. So close.

"Eric, I need a pitcher of Bud Light!" I call over the din of raging female hormones. Eric gives me a tired nod, moving away from the pile of women surrounding him.

"Isn't he a _doll?_" One of the girls asks me, eyeing Eric longingly. I cringe, noticing how she practically is licking her lips. "Is he single?"

"Engaged," Eric corrects, returning and giving me a smile, and handing me the pitcher. "Her name's Allyson."

"Well, if you ever want to shop around…" The girl slurs while I move away to grab glasses and a tray .

"Penny!" Jerry's panicked voice comes from nearby.

"Can't talk, Jer!" I sigh, brushing through another crowd, "Got a table full of guys to give beer to!"

"Jill is hyperventilating in the back! She almost passed out!" He cries, making me sigh loudly. "Is there any way you can stay until close?"

"Are you freaking kidding me?" I hiss, whirling on him. "I've been here since _opening_, because I had to take Rachel's shift! Seriously, Jerry! _Stop_ hiring infants!"

"Excuse me, Miss?" A man from one of my other tables calls out, "Can we get some refills here?"

"Sure!" I call back, feeling my face flush with panic, "Just one sec, okay?"

"It's been fifteen minutes!" He cries back, shaking his head disapprovingly as he looks at his family.

"I'll be _right_ with you!" I assure him, squeezing around Jerry's wheezy, tiny form.

"Penny, I'm _begging,_" Jerry whines from behind me as I head back toward fifteen, where the guys are trying to beckon some of the bachelorette party girls to their table.

"_Fine!"_ I shriek, sighing angrily and waving Jerry away from me. Setting the glasses on the table, I lean over to place the pitcher down and feel Kurt's rather large hand start to snake up my skirt toward my thighs. The guys all snicker and make totally obvious comments. Two of the guys high five and I hear a hushed "I can't believe he actually _did_ it!"

That's when I snap.

"Oh _hell_ no!" I exclaim, furious as I turn toward Kurt. Without thinking, I dump the entire pitcher of Bud Light over his head and drop it in his lap. His hand retreats immediately and I stare at him, trembling with rage. I wish my friends were here tonight. I need to see faces that I know. Even though they could offer virtually _no_ help, at least I would _feel_ better. "You don't _ever_ get to touch me again."

"You little, bitch!" Kurt starts to get out of his chair and I brace myself for a lot of ugliness.

"Oh, don't you even fucking dare—"

"_Penny!"_ Jerry's voice comes from nearby, and I come out of my Hulked out rage, vaguely remembering that I just dumped a pitcher of beer on a customer. I rush away from Kurt and turn to face my boss, knowing I'm going to probably be suspended. Nancy and Jill are going to hate me, because now they're even _more_ shorthanded.

"Look, Jerry," I begin, putting my hands up in surrender, "I know I screwed up, but that guy is my ex, and he—"

"Penny, I don't care if he's the devil _incarnate,_ you _can't_ dump beer on a customer! In front of the entire restaurant! On the busiest night!" He starts wheezing, turning a spectacular shade of purple. If I wasn't so worked up, I'd probably smirk. "I have to fire you," He finally says, crossing his arms and making my jaw drop.

"Ex_cuse_ me?" I inquire, staring at him incredulously, "Jerry, that guy just tried to—"

"There's nothing I can do, Penny," Jerry tells me, eyeing the doorway, "The guys from corporate are here inspecting the kitchen and once they hear…"

"Yeah, got it," I mutter, removing my apron and flinging it at him, "Nice loyalty, Jer. Eight years."

"I…"

"Spare me," I stalk past him, glaring one last time at a still livid Kurt, flying into the kitchen only long enough to grab my jacket and purse, and I flee the scene out the back door, bumping into someone holding a box.

"Oh, hey Penny…" I hear, and glance over my shoulder through teary eyes to see Zack holding a box of menus.

"Hi," I manage to sob, before sprinting to my car.

"_Hey!"_ A deeper voice barks at me, and just as I turn to look, I'm slammed against my car door with a beer soaked hand the size of a freaking manatee wrapped around my throat. Kurt's eyes bear into mine. "Listen to me, you little skank, don't you _ever_ think about pulling a stunt like that again, or I'll—"

"Back off, Dude!" I hear Zack's voice as I struggle to breath, trying to move my legs, which are pinned between Kurt's.

"This ain't your problem, asshole!" Kurt tells him, not sparing a glance.

"Seriously, Man…let her go or I'm calling the cops!" Zack warns. Forgetting his slow smothering of me, he lets go while I slump to the ground, gasping for air and fumbling for my pepper spray.

"What are _you_ gonna do about it, little guy?"

"_Little_ guy?" Zack exclaims, "That girl is my friend!"

"_That _girl is my _ex!"_ Kurt interjects, pushing at Zack. My lungs figure out how to work again and I manage to cry out for them to stop.

"Kurt! Hey! Come on! The manager said we get free drinks for the rest of the night!" Jon calls, coming out into the parking lot. I give up on finding the pepper spray and sit with my head against the cool metal of my VW. The sound of his friend's voice seems to snap Kurt out of his temper tantrum and he stops, flying back, before glancing back at me. He looks completely like someone just smacked him with a frying pan over the head.

"Penny, I…" He shakes his head, looking horrified, "Jesus, _fuck!"_ His eyes fill with, what I assume is apology, a lot like when we used to date and he would lose it with me. I used to fall for it. I was an idiot.

When they leave, Zack rushes over, lifting me to my feet and checking me over.

"You okay?" He asks. I nod, feeling my heart rate start to go back down. "Should I call—"

"No, Zack…" I sag against his sturdy chest, glad to have at least a familiar face with me. "Thank you."

"Anytime." His eyes are full of sincerity and I feel my heart tug with fondness for the big dumb sweetheart. He's adorable like a teddy bear.

_Not going there again, Penny,_ I remind myself.

"Okay, I'm fine," I assure him, kissing his cheek and getting into my car on wobbling legs. He watches me pull out of the parking space and waves as I pull out of the parking lot, toward my salvation, the trusty old Keg & Wine. If I needed a drink before, I _definitely_ need one more now. In the space of thirty minutes, I've been: sexually harassed, fired and assaulted.

Not my best Friday night.

At least I can take comfort in the boozy haze that I'm about to retreat to. I at least have enough money in my bank account for that. I'll worry about meaningless things like _electricity _and _rent_ tomorrow. Once I pull into the parking lot of the store, I text Darcy.

_I just got fired._

The foreign lady who sells me the booze doesn't even I.D. me. There's no need. I'm in here a lot lately. And, yeah, I _hate_ the fact that I'm probably an alcoholic, or on the verge, but it sure as shit beats being miserable.

Yeah, yeah…no need to say it, I heard myself.

I sneak up the stairs at the apartments, clutching my paper bag of goodies to my chest and checking the hall, before stepping up the stairs and moving to my door. Hopefully, Duck Hunt is loud enough to keep Dr. Vulcan Hearing from zoning in on me like a freaking Blood Hound. I flip on the T.V. as I head straight over to the counter to crack open my _Dude_ and pour it into the biggest cup I own, an old 7-11 Big Gulp…you know, the kind with the lid. It's a Bucket O'Booze. I hear my phone vibrate on the counter while I fish in my junk drawer for a plastic straw. Leaning over, I glance at it.

_Mom. _

Damn. Swallowing my fear, I slide my thumb over the screen and answer it, cradling it between my ear and my shoulder.

"Hey, Mom!" I say tiredly into the phone.

"Penelope Elizabeth, what is the meaning of this text message to your sister?" She cries into the phone.

"Sorry, Penny!" I hear Darcy's voice muffled over the other line, "She saw the text come in. I was in the crapper with Cam!" I wince, rubbing my temples.

"You were _fired?"_ Mom inquires, ignoring my sister's crass explanation. Rolling my eyes, I rest my cheek on the counter.

"Yeah. I was," I reply, keeping my eyes closed and feeling like a small child.

"Your father is going to have a heart attack, Penelope," Mom scolds, "What did you _do?" _

"I…um…" My voice drops and I say the rest extremely fast, "kinda-sorta-dumped-a-beer-on-my-ex."

"You _what?"_ She shrieks, gasping.

"He was grabbing my butt, Mom!" I whine, sounding a lot like a child. But, damn it, I want _someone _to be on my side. Dad would. He might be mad at first, but once he finds out that I was standing up to myself, he'll be proud…right?

"Penny, you are twenty-six years old. You know better," My mother admonishes me again, "You get a _manager_ and you let _them_ handle it." She falls silent for a second and huffs into the phone. "Penny, I think it's time for you to come home to Omaha."

"What?" I cry. And I can hear Darcy yell the same thing in the background at Mom's. "No!" I go on, angry again. Tears of frustration sting the corners of my eyes. "I'm not coming back."

"You've been there for _eight _years, Penelope," Mom insists, "You told me you were going so that you didn't have to be a waitress at Chili's for the rest of your life. And what have you been doing? You've been a waitress at The Cheesecake Factory!"

"Well, I'm sorry Mom! I guess I'll never live up to your dreams of being a _farm_ wife!" I screech into the phone. I immediately know I've gone too far. My mother falls silent as my heart pounds with instant regret. "Mom, I didn't mean that, I'm—"

But the line is dead. She hung up on me.

I'm an _ass._ Tossing my phone aside, I grab my giant container of alcohol and trudge over to the couch, staring at a black screen. Cable's been shut off.

Fuuuck.

Bottoms up, bitches. I'm about halfway down when there's a knock at my door. Thankfully it's not an O.C.D. three knocks followed by my name. I can't deal with any more whacko today. It's Amy.

"Hey, Ames…" I say, and it's pretty obvious, even to me, that I'm tipsy, because I just slurred. She looks concerned.

"Sheldon just received a phone call from Zack Johnson, wondering if you'd gotten home alright. Naturally, this concerned us as you never arrived to spend the evening with us." She glances back toward the door to 4A. "Zack also informed us that you had been fired from The Cheesecake Factory. As your Bestie, I've made it my duty to come check in on you."

"Come on in," I exhale slowly, letting her pass and glaring at 4A, before shutting the door.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks and I shake my head.

"Nope," I answer, popping the 'P'. "Wanna drink?"

"No, thank you. I have to drive Raj home," She demurs, "He's beyond inebriated. Apparently, a new astrophysicist started work at Cal-Tech this week. A female. Apparently, he's exhausted from the exertion of having to figure out a way to communicate with her as he can't speak in front of her."

"He really needs to get that shit under control," I grumble, reaching for my drink.

"Agreed," Amy nods, perching on my couch with her hands on her knees.

"Like I have room to talk," I laugh wryly, "I'm unemployed, broke, single, and I'm a month behind on my rent. I have no cable and I actually considered making out with dirty Pete at the gas station so I could fill my gas tank." I shake my head and take a deep breath, "Maybe my mother is right. I _should_ move home to Nebraska."

"My apartment is two bedrooms," Amy blurts, interrupting my pity party. I turn to look at her, raising an eyebrow in my half drunken state.

"It is?"

"Well, currently, the second bedroom houses my vast collection of Barbie dolls, but it can certainly be converted into acceptable living quarters. The rent is certainly cheaper than living here on your own, and I can easily make the payment alone if necessary."

"Amy," I sigh, patting her hand, "I can't take advantage of you like that. Of course I would pay rent…but you don't have to—"

"Before I met Sheldon, I was alone all of the time. I'd never had a girl friend. I'd never had a boyfriend. Since meeting you, I have a boyfriend, two close girl friends and three hopeless male friends…you are the beacon of light in my life, the sun in my sky, the cherry on top of my favorite sundae, the—"

"I got it," I stop her, before she takes it to us using loofahs on each other and rubbing oil over our bodies…or something equally awkward. "You're pretty special to me too."

"That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," Amy says, remaining as calm as ever, grinning at me. I can't help it, I smile. My eyes flit around the room, and I fill with sadness.

"I've lived here for five years…" I say, looking around the apartment I love so much. It's tiny and messy, but it's the only place that's ever really been _mine. _ I don't want to leave. But, as my father would say, part of being an adult means doing the right thing for yourself, whether it's what you want or not. "Are you sure I wouldn't be intruding on your personal space? I mean, you and Sheldon…" I waggle my eyebrows at her, "I hear it's getting a little hot and heavy."

"Oh please," Amy replies, "He pecked me on the lips. If I had it my way, I'd have had him out of those pleated khakis months ago."

I choke on Mountain Dew and Vodka.

"Jesus! T.M.I.!" I laugh, giggling uncontrollably at the thought of Amy jumping on Shelly Bean like a spider monkey. "I just…I know you guys will want to have…uh…_privacy_ sometimes and—"

"Well, assuming he ever experiences enough sexual growth to go past first base, my bedroom door has a lock on it," She informs me calmly.

"You're serious about this…" I state, staring at her incredulously. She simply nods. "Okay," I hear myself say after a few moments. "Let's do it!" She surprises me by launching into my arms.

"Oh, you won't regret this!" She says excitedly, "I have a waffle iron _and _an extra electric toothbrush! Every night can be girls' night!"

"Whoa," I giggle, pulling back, "Easy, Amy! I do love waffles, but I actually have my own – _ehrm_ – toothbrush. I'm all set there. And I'll try to find a job as soon as possible." Amy grins, standing.

"I should call my mother!" She exclaims excitedly, making me feel sick to my stomach as I remember that I've probably done irreparable damage to my relationship with my own mother.

"Me too…" I sigh, standing and taking a long drink of my drink. Before either of us can do that, however, our attention is turned to the door again.

_Knock, knock, knock. _

"Penny." We look at each other and smirk.

_Knock, knock, knock. _

"Amy." This is the point that I crack up, because I'm half sloshed and everything is funny. Plus, rent is the least of my worries right now.

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny and Amy." Grinning, I swing the door open and reach up to pinch Dr. Whackadoodle's cheek, making him cry out in horror.

"What up, Sheldor?" I wink at Amy as he gives me a puzzled look.

"What is wrong with you?" He asks, looking past me at Amy.

"She's drowning her sorrows in Mountain Dew flavored vodka," Amy tells him. I jab a thumb at the bottle.

"Want some?" I offer, making him recoil in horror.

"I don't drink!" He protests.

"Yeah, _okay, _Mr. Jeepers-I'm-Drunk!" I giggle, stumbling to sit on the couch. _Now_ I'm really feeling the booze. I take another drink.

"That would be an inaccurate statement," Sheldon tells me, shutting the door behind him, "It would be _Dr._ Jeepers-I'm-Drunk."

"What_ever,"_ I roll my eyes at him.

"Let me get straight to my purpose for coming over here," Sheldon cuts in, before I can say anything else. He stands with his hands behind his back, watching me with a look of disapproval on his face.

"Sheldon, now isn't the time," Amy insists, shaking her head at him.

"Oh, I beg to differ, Amy," He argues, "I have a bone to pick with you, Penny."

"Oh, take a number," I growl, waving at him in irritation.

"Who is going to serve me my Tuesday night cheeseburger now?" He asks, as if this is a valid protest.

"Oh, who cares about your damn hamburger?" I sneer, standing and swaying on my feet.

"Oh, Penny," He gives me a wary look, "It's a _cheeseburger!" _I don't know if it's the complete stress of the day or the fact that I'm drunk, exhausted and emotionally drained, but I lunge at him, grabbing him by the color of his red Flash shirt. He lets out a yelp as I back him up against my front door. A moment later, I remember how defeated I feel and let go of him, backing away.

"Get out," I bark, pointing my finger weakly at the door and feeling my face fall again. I notice Amy standing sternly near me with her arms folded as she shakes her head at her nutty boyfriend.

"Penny?" Sheldon asks, sounding almost concerned all of a sudden.

"Just go, okay?" I look angrily up at him, "I'm sorry about your _cheeseburger._ Now, leave me alone." But he doesn't leave. He looks like he _wants_ to flee, but he stays rooted in his spot, looking to Amy for guidance.

"Shall I sing Soft Kitty?" He asks, looking completely lost. I shake my head.

"Not sick. Just drunk…and stupid," I swallow, "There's no cure for stupid."

"Penny…" Amy interrupts gently, touching my arm. I feel like an idiot, and I hate that they're both here to witness my idiocy. I wipe at my eyes and sigh, wiping my nose with the sleeve of my sweater.

"M'fine. Guys, really…you can go. I'm just gonna shower and go to bed," I assure them, standing up (as straight as one who's consumed two thirds of a gallon of a Mountain Dew cocktail _can_ stand).

"So," Amy says, ushering Dr. Whackadoodle toward the door, "what's Soft Kitty?" Sheldon looks over his shoulder back at me, and I manage to give him a half hearted smile.

He's on his own with this one.


	3. What Up, Roomie?

**So, let me just start this off by telling you about the day I've had. I turned on my computer and everything fell apart. A delightful little thing called a virus had fried my hard drive and I lost EVERYTHING. **

**So, I now have a beautiful new laptop, but I am rebuilding everything from scratch. Bear with me. Sorry this took so long.  
**

* * *

My head is pounding as I feel the sun beating mercilessly through my window and over my face. Vague memories of being fired and fighting with my mother bombard me as I attempt to sit up and groan. In retrospect, drinking half a bottle of vodka _probably_ wasn't the best idea. Shakily, I grab my phone and check to see if I have any messages. One text from Darcy. Midnight.

_What the hell is your deal? Mom's been holed up in her room for three hours now. What did you say to her?_

Oh yeah…I'm an ass.

The details of my argument with her flood back relentlessly, making me wish I could lie back down and pull the covers over myself for the next, oh…hundred years or so. I start to text my mother an apology, when I hear a soft knock at my front door. Too soft to be Leonard. Too normal to be Sheldon.

Amy.

Grabbing my robe, I sigh, covering my eyes as I plod out to answer it. To my surprise, Amy is standing there with an armful of unassembled cardboard boxes.

"Morning, Roomie!" She grins, giving me a devilish wink as she slips inside. I stare after her in confusion, watching with my mouth gaping open as she starts to put a box together.

"Amy, what's going on here?" I ask slowly, wondering what stupid thing I did when I was trashed last night. Amy looks up, meeting my eyes.

"Ah, the alcohol must be impairing your memory," she says, not missing a beat as she flips the box upright and sets it aside. "You were distressed about your living situation as you are one month behind on rent and currently unemployed. You then accepted my offer of rooming together and proceeded to drink the contents of this jug," She gestures to the empty Big Gulp cup on my coffee table. I begin to remember. It makes my head ache. "I spent the rest of the evening emptying out my second bedroom with Sheldon's assistance."

"Sheldon…?" I cringe distantly, trying to remember if I know a Sheldon. "Does he know, I…you…we…"

"I told him," Amy nods, brandishing a Sharpie and writing something on the cardboard box. "He was slightly distressed, and railed on about how he offered you monetary assistance, which you refused," She nods approvingly at me, eyes twinkling, "It's that gutsy determination that makes you such a red hot firecracker. Naturally, Sheldon doesn't like change."

"Understatement," I mutter, rolling my eyes as I cross to the cupboard near my sink where I keep my hangover supplies. Hello Excedrin…

"He was actually somewhat angry with me for suggesting the idea to you," Amy sighs.

"Yes, because if I'm not living here, who will check his ears for ladybugs?" I quip dryly, downing the pills with a glass of lukewarm tap water.

"Or sing Soft Kitty to him…" Amy murmurs absently, assembling another box. I freeze, noticing her face fall only for a moment, before she composes herself and looks up, "He told me."

"It's just something his mother used to—"

"Yes," Amy shakes her head, "He's very adamant that it is not my concern." My stomach roils with both anger for her, and something else I can't identify. Probably the vodka. "He told me to reread the section of our Relationship Agreement titled 'Booboos and Ouchies'. Sure enough, it says 'In the instance of illness, Penny shall sing Soft Kitty to Sheldon'. So much the better," She continues, "as I have no desire to enable Sheldon's childish regressions."

"Weirdo," I grumble in agreement, heading toward the bedroom. "Let me get dressed, okay?"

We don't talk about Soft Kitty any more, but I intend to have a stern conversation with Dr. Whackadoodle about his boyfriend skills. Okay, so the thought of Amy singing Soft Kitty to Sheldon kind of makes me ill for reasons unknown. It's kind of sick, but I've been trying to get out of that for the past five years since Sheldon first went all 'Code Milky Green' on me. (Ew.) But, now that I have a shot at actually getting out of it, I don't _want_ to. Because, in some stupid way, it _is_ my job. Maybe, I am an enabler…I don't know.

That's when it hits me.

I'm moving away from them. I will no longer just be across the hall. There will no longer be 'Knock, knock, knock. Penny.' This isn't like when I moved to California and had to leave my childhood behind. I was glad to leave. This is _sad. _I'm not a crier. I don't get mushy about stupid things, but this is kind of hurting me. With every item we pack into a box, I feel like I'm packing away a piece of myself…a little emptier each time.

This is home. This is where I started living. This is where I came when I finally dumped Kurt, and where I've shared countless moments over the past five years. I remember when the guys got home from the North Pole and they were all so excited (and beardy). I remember the first night I hung out with them all, we went out to Sushioke and I listened to Howard Wolowitz ruin The Backstreet Boys for me when he sang I'll Never Break Your Heart to me in front of around fifty horrified witnesses.

That had been an odd night for a few reasons, but mostly because I'd spent the majority of the evening trying to flirt with Sheldon. That was kind of before I'd realized just how…um…_quirky_ (yeah, let's go with that) the nutjob was.

Understatement.

Now that I know Sheldon (he's still _quirky_), I'm kind of glad he wasn't into it. He's a freaking lunatic, but he's _our_ lunatic.

It's not that Amy lives far away. In fact, we're maybe four blocks down, off Euclid. But, it's not _here._

"Penny?" Amy's voice cuts into my thoughts, making me jump. "You're crying."

"I…yeah, I guess I am," I sniff, staring at an old picture frame with a newspaper clipping in it. I set the frame carefully into the box and wipe my eyes with my hand.

"You know," She says, sitting beside me, "you don't _have_ to do this if you don't want to,"Amy assures me, "I can't deny that the thought of sharing living quarters with you is terribly appealing, but I will certainly understand if you'd rather—"

"No," I shake my head, "It makes sense. I can't manage on my own anymore. But, I promise, I'll be on my feet soon and you won't have to worry about me."

"I have no doubt," Amy says, standing. "I'm afraid I underestimated your vast collection of shoes, so I'm going to run out and grab some more boxes."

"Thanks, honey," I stand miserably, watching her leave, before turning back to my pile of memories.

"I'm just saying, Sheldon," I hear Leonard's voice in the stairwell, "_You_ wouldn't exist without coitus, and—"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Comes Sheldon's groan, "It isn't so much the _purpose_ that repulses me, as the transference of possible disease. I can't imagine what—"

"Shh…" I hear Leonard hiss as they come around the corner while I contemplate what to do with that awful painting that Amy gave me. "Penny?" Tiredly, I exhale and turn toward them, feeling my eyes burn at the sight.

"Oh, hi…" I manage weakly, running a hand through my messy hair.

"Hi," Leonard nods.

"Hi," Sheldon echoes. I kind of stare at them for a second, feeling like I've already lived this moment.

"Hi," Leonard repeats again.

"Hi," Sheldon adds quietly, getting an odd look from Leonard to which he shrugs. "You started it," he mutters sullenly, looking like a big, sulky toddler in plaid pants. It almost makes me laugh.

"Hi…" I say, but it comes out as a sob and before I can stop myself, I fling forward into Leonard's arms, burying my face in his shoulder. I know he's surprised, because his hands tentatively move to pat my back. I open my swollen, watery eyes and stare up at Dr. Plaid Pants, pulling away from Leonard and grabbing Sheldon by the front of the shirt before he can back away.

"_Penny…_" He whines, making me laugh.

"Shut up, Moon-Pie, or I'll wipe my nose on your sleeve," I warn him, eliciting a shriek that makes me share a grin with Leonard, despite my broken heart. For the first time, I kind of feel like things might be okay. Kind of like they used to be when it was just me and the boys. As much as I love Bernadette and Amy, I have missed our time together.

Sheldon finally relents and wraps his arms tentatively around my back, and I realize this is kind of the first _real_ hug we've ever shared (meaning, not one of his weird, incredibly awkward ones). It's kind of amazing really, because I've hugged Leonard a thousand times. I've even hugged Raj and Howard (reluctantly). This hug is different, and I nearly laugh as I realize that it's because my arms are beneath Sheldon's. He's so much taller than the other three…and me. I can hear Leonard snicker behind me, which makes me look up at Sheldon's face. He looks torn between social convention and the need to flee to the safety of his Lysol encased home. I pull away and give him a hearty thump on the arm. Leonard holds up a paper bag and smiles sheepishly at me.

"We got Indian food…are you hungry?" He asks, while Sheldon snorts.

"Why must you always invite others to dine with us when we haven't bought enough food? You've seen Penny eat—"

"_Hey!"_ I cry, but it comes out as a laugh.

"Have I said something untrue?" He challenges. There it is. That twinkle of superiority, and something else…is that amusement? "You do have an insatiable appetite."

"I like food," I shrug, elbowing past him and shaking my head. I am too tired and hung over to be irritated. This is my last lunch with the guys before I leave Los Robles.

"I like Mountain Dew," Sheldon continues, following behind us like a maniacal, condescending parrot, "Yet, you don't see me gorging myself on it."

"That's because the last time you did, you were up for a full twenty-four hours and you ended up crashing in the middle of a lecture. Raj and I had to carry you to your office," Leonard quips, rolling his eyes as I sink onto the couch, putting my aching head in my hand. I hear Dr. Whackadoodle impatiently clear his throat and force myself to look up at him.

"Yeah?"

"You're in my spot!" He exclaims, gesturing wildly. Vaguely, I look around and realize that I certainly _am_ sitting in Sheldon's spot.

"So, sit next to me," I tell him through gritted teeth, in an overly sweet voice. His eyes narrow for the briefest of moments, before he shakes his head at me.

"No. I sit there," He crosses his arms like a toddler about to have a temper tantrum and begins to tap his foot. Feeling particularly feisty, I raise an eyebrow and sit back, giving him a pointed glare.

"_Make_ me," I tell him in a low voice, hearing Leonard sigh tiredly.

"Penny…" He pleads, opening the bag of food.

"_Penny..."_ Sheldon says warningly.

"_Sheldon..." _I counter, scooting my butt all the way into the corner and putting my feet beneath me. "Make me," I repeat, accepting a paper plate from Leonard, who looks like he wants to flee the scene. Ignoring Sheldon, I begin to dish out my food. I barely have time to dig the fork into the food before I feel a pair of hands grab me beneath my arms and pull me to my feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I can just see the tan of Sheldon's T-Shirt. Leonard has dropped his fork and is watching in morbid fascination as Sheldon and I tumble back onto the couch together.

The little shit just _made_ me get out of his spot.

"You just dragged me out of your spot!" I cry, both impressed and irritated.

"To be fair," Sheldon rasps, trying to catch his breath. "You _did _tell me to _make _you." This is probably the most physical activity he's had since, like, _ever._ I mean, this is the dude who through his back out handing Howard Wolowitz a hardcover library book. I'm in good shape, but I am _not_ a tiny girl. I'm five feet seven inches tall. I have broad shoulders. I used to take down cattle for sport. So, I'm no pixie.

"Yeah, you did," I concede, getting off of him and turning to hold my hand out to him. He stares at my proffered hand as if he believes I may have the plague. Not giving him a choice, I grab his hands and pull him to his feet, gesturing impatiently to his precious spot. "Have at it, Tex." I glance at Leonard who looks like he isn't sure how he should be reacting, so he just opts for shaking his head at me.

"You two frighten me," He sighs, taking a bite of food, but I notice him half smile when he looks down into his food.

"Seriously," I sigh, sitting in the seat beside Sheldon, "When is the last time it was just the three of us eating a meal together here?"

"March," Sheldon answers without hesitation, opening his food, "March twenty-first actually." I give him a look, making him look back into his food.

"Well, it's nice," I tell them, meeting Leonard's dark eyes. They flash with regret for a moment, but he looks away, obviously trying not to show me that I've hurt him. I can say what I want, but it's only been a week since I dumped him…again.

Let me tell you something about Leonard. He is a wonderful, good person. He deserves someone who loves him so, so much. He is going to make a lucky woman extremely happy one day. But, she'd better do the same for him. Because, any girl who wants to be with Leonard has to go through _me._ I just hope it happens soon.

A knock at the door brings me out of my thoughts, watching distantly as Leonard goes to open it.

"Oh, hey Amy!" He says, stepping aside so she can come in. Her arms are full of boxes, which she sets near the door after thanking Leonard.

"Hello," She answers stoically, turning toward me, "I apologize for the length of time I was gone, but apparently one of our neighbors, Mrs. Swanson, choked on a chicken leg from Kentucky Fried Chicken and the entrance to our Apartment Building was blocked by the ambulance." Looking at Leonard, she adds, "Mrs. Swanson is similar to Mrs. Wolowitz in size." Both Leonard and I cringe, but Amy's goofy boyfriend seems not to have heard.

"Is she okay?" I ask Amy, setting my food aside.

"She seems to be fine, though the E.M.T. did suggest to her that she should consider boneless chicken from now on, as she's too eager to actually chew the food," Amy replies dryly, perching on the arm of Leonard's chair. "I also just received a text message from Bernadette. She's declined to come over tonight. Apparently, the absence of her miniscule husband is too much for her and she's opted to spend the evening in the company of Mrs. Wolowitz."

"Raj is busy too," Leonard nods, "The new astrophysicist at work is kind of distracting him. Tiny redhead. She's extremely intelligent—"

"For an astrophysicist," Sheldon inserts, raising an eyebrow. I roll my eyes.

"Sheldon," Leonard sighs in exasperation, "Just because she doesn't support string theory—"

"She _called_ it a jumbled _mess,_ Leonard!" Sheldon cries, "She's proving to be as frustrating as Leslie Winkle was…I cannot express my extreme relief that she finally decided to leave the university. Though with her stake in Quantum Loop Gravity, I can't believe Siebert didn't—"

"Um, hello?" I interrupt, annoyed, "Look, can we quit with the space talk?" Ol' Shelly Bean turns his glower on me so quickly, I'm frankly surprised that he doesn't burst into flames.

"_Space_ talk?" He asks, affronted. Leonard sighs, sharing a look with Amy.

"Here we go."

"_Space_ talk?" Sheldon turns to face me completely, "Penny, do you realize that if we, as humans, can learn more about the universe as a whole, we can possibly preserve our species into the future? _Space_ as you refer to it isn't only comprised of stars and planets!"

"No, I got that," I assure him, kind of taken aback by his passion on the subject. If only we could get him to go after Amy with that look in his eyes, she might get some action. Seeing the need for action, Amy stands.

"Sheldon, it may interest you to know that I was able to obtain two advance tickets to _The Dark Knight Rises_ for a private advance screening in Hollywood," Amy cuts in, making Sheldon fall silent in an instant.

"Amy, those tickets aren't even on _sale_ yet!" Leonard cries, looking completely impressed. "How did you do that?" Amy meets my eyes and I nod approvingly.

"A woman never reveals her secrets," Amy tells him, winking at him before reaching into her purse and retrieving the two tickets. "I thought that, as it is our six month anniversary, it would be a fitting way to celebrate. Of course, it isn't until early July, and I was going to save them for our date tonight." She shrugs casually and holds them out to Sheldon.

"Is it social convention to buy gifts for the six month mark?" Sheldon inquires, furrowing his brows before staring back at me as if I've betrayed him. I give him a shrug. _I'm_ not Amy's boyfriend! He is! And he's five years older than me, so he needs to pull his shit together.

"No," Amy assures him, grinning. Sheldon then does something that I would never have expected and closes the few feet distance between he and Amy and plants a quick, albeit odd, kiss on her lips. That's when things get weird. Okay, A. Sheldon just initiated a kiss. B. He doesn't pull away and rush off to gargle with Listerine, and C. I feel like I was just punched in the gut.

I blame the curry.

I mean, this is a _good_ thing, because it means that Amy's plan to make Sheldon fall for her is working. And I am totally excited for her. But there's something else I'm feeling and I don't know what. It's not gas…trust me, I know what gas feels like, and this ain't it.

I think it's the realization that Sheldon is a _guy_.

Okay, obviously he's a man; I'm not _that_ blonde, okay? It's a roiling, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and I don't like it. (It's _not_ gas! Get off my back, okay?)

But it's over in an instant. Sheldon is back in his spot. Amy, though flushing pink, has returned to perch on the arm of the chair. I notice Leonard uncomfortably clear his throat and turn to her.

"Um, so anyway…Amy," He says, swallowing, "My mother is giving a seminar at Rutger's on cognitive development in children who are raised in loving homes versus using her methods. I, uh—" His eyes flicker over me for a moment, "I have an extra ticket. I thought, since you're a neurobiologist, you may enjoy it."

"I can't say that I fully agree with your mother's theories, but I think it may be an interesting seminar. One can't deny the woman is brilliant," She returns, nodding, "I'd love to come."

"Hey, Ames," I say, coming back to my senses, "Leonard's mother kissed Sheldon!" I snicker, watching Leonard's eyes widen in horror.

"I'm sorry, _what?"_ Leonard cries, horrified.

"Oh, Penny…" Sheldon shakes his head, "She was intoxicated –_ your_ doing – and, in a moment of impaired judgment, she…kissed me. It was unsanitary, unpleasant and unnecessary, I assure you."

"Oh, _God…_" Leonard moans, while Amy smirks.

"I thought _I_ was your first kiss," Amy teases Sheldon, who glares at her.

"You were the first kiss that wasn't foisted upon me," Sheldon retorts, again giving me a baleful look. I just grin antagonistically at him and shrug, before getting up.

"Well, I should probably get back to packing," I sigh, looking toward the door, "Thanks for lunch you guys…"

"Sure," Leonard nods, giving me a sad smile and making me feel like the Wicked Witch of the West. Maybe he'll meet a nice girl at the seminar. I hope he does.

"Catch ya later, MoonPie," I add, fleeing before he can protest. Amy is right behind me, and just as we return to the apartment, I sigh, seeing my phone on the coffee table. "Shit."

"Everything alright, Bestie?" Amy's voice comes from behind me. I grab my phone in defeat and nod.

"Yeah, I just…I have to do something," I say, moving into the bedroom and shutting the door behind me as I press the call button.

"Hello?" Dad's voice comes into the phone after three rings.

"Dad," I say nervously, wondering if Mom said anything to him, "Is Mom there?"

"Yeah, she's giving Cam a bath," He stops, "Penny, what the hell happened with you two on the phone last night? She was crying all night long." I sink onto the bed, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"I'm an idiot," I tell him, "I need to talk to her so I can apologize."

"Lemme grab her," He says. The line falls silent for a few moments, before I hear the vague sound of voices and the exchanging of the phone.

"Hello?" My mother's smooth, tired voice comes onto the line, making me tear up immediately.

"Mom," I say hoarsely, blinking rapidly.

"Penny," She breathes, sounding almost relieved.

"I'm so sorry…" I sob into the phone, "I didn't mean what I said last night. It was just a horrible day, and—"

"No, _I'm_ sorry, hon," She cuts in, "I shouldn't have started an argument. You'd had a bad night…and I should have been sympathetic. I'm your mother. I'm _always_ on your side. Your father and I are livid about those assholes firing you, when you were being harassed. I have half a mind to come out there, and—"

"No," I half laugh, half cry, sniffing, "You don't have to do that. I think it's kind of a good thing. I'm moving in with my friend Amy. I'm gonna get another job. I need to change, Mom."

"Yeah, you do," Mom says, "We all have to grow up sooner or later, don't we? Some of us just take longer…you and I are a lot alike."

"We are, aren't we?" I smile, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "I could do a lot worse than that."

"I love you, Penelope, okay?" Mom tells me sincerely. For the first time today, I feel like things might end up okay.

"I love you too, Mom."

"Okay, I really gotta go. Your nephew just splashed bath water all over your father and Darcy is up at the high school, discussing Brian's scholarship with his counselors."

"'Kay, talk to you soon!" I reply, hanging up. Relief settles over me, weakening me to the point that I feel like I need a serious nap.

Everything is happening so fast. I no longer work at The Cheesecake Factory. I'm single. I'm moving. I'm broke. And Sheldon is now kissing Amy.

Oh God, I just realized something. I'm going to be living with Amy. I now have a front row seat to the Shamy.

I may need to start drinking heavily.

* * *

**Now, please go read The Unexpected Combination Hypothesis by MattUF1. It's amazing. **


	4. Never Take Drinks From Strangers

It's been a week since I decided to move in with Amy, and four days since I spent my first night in apartment 314. The first night wasn't easy, what with Amy's delightful night terrors. I miss my apartment. I miss living on my own and having my place to myself. But, onward and upward, I suppose. It's been four days, and it's not like much has _really_ changed. Yes, I sleep in a different bedroom, in a different building, but I still spend most of my time with my friends in 4A. It's comforting knowing that if almost everything in my life changes, some things never will.

Tonight is Amy and Sheldon's big newly dictated weekly 'date night'. Using a clever blend of manipulation, hot dog spaghetti and _Star Trek_, Amy has managed to get her stubborn ass of a boyfriend to allow a change to the Relationship Agreement. (This must have been why Sheldon asked for my opinion on where to take Amy on a date). Granted, I'm betting Amy still isn't going to end up in bed with him tonight, but after that trippy ass kiss last weekend, anything is possible.

And _there's_ an image I'll never get out of my head. Shamy bumping uglies.

_Gah!_

There's just something so…_wrong_…about the thought of Sheldon and Amy getting nasty with each other. Maybe I'm just bitter, because _I'm_ not getting any. But, that's my own fault. I could still be going nowhere with Leonard, but at least I'd be getting some action. What I _need_ is to get back out there and go on some dates…you know, preferably with people I _haven't_ seen naked.

Jobless bum that I am, I've taken to sweats and no makeup. I think I've been wearing the same dingy ass sweats since Wednesday. I'm out of options. I could go be a waitress again…you know, make a career out of the damn thing…_or_ I can try to do something that provides actual _income._ I think it may be time to face the music. The acting thing ain't happening. The hemorrhoid commercial might have been a fluke…or I just seem like someone who could have downstairs issues.

For the record, I have _never_ had hemorrhoids.

_Sittin' pretty._ That shit _still_ makes me cringe. So, here I sit at six P.M. with a bowl of Frosted Flakes in my lap, _Dance Moms_ playing on the T.V. and a wrinkled newspaper sitting beside me as I scope out jobs. I don't have an associate's degree, so I'm screwed for some of these. Tossing the paper aside in irritation, I take a bite of slightly soggy Frosted Flakes and watch Abby Lee verbally abuse her preteen dancers.

God, I _love_ reality television.

"Bestie, I need your opinion on something," Amy's voice comes from behind the couch. I turn around to find her standing in her robe, holding two dresses, each equally frumpy and shapeless.

"'Kay," I tell her, setting my cereal bowl on the coffee table. "No and no." Amy's eyes darken, and she stares at me in confusion.

"Are you suggesting I answer the door nude and take Sheldon by surprise?" She quirks a devilish grin, "He'll never know I'm coming." And…I'll need the Jaws of Life to get _that_ visual out of my mind.

"Um, no," I mutter, moving around the couch and gingerly taking the dresses out of her hands. "Come with me." I lead her into my bedroom. Now, I know that Amy and I aren't exactly the same size. She has a significantly bigger rack than I do, but I'm sure I have something we can work with.

Sure as shit, I find a stretchy black wrap dress with short sleeves . Bingo. I toss it at her and grab her by the wrist, guiding her into the bathroom.

"Okay," I say, glad for something to do. "Go put on the dress and your yellow heels. Meet me back here in ten."

"It's like every dream I had as a child come true. Getting ready for a date with my boyfriend with my gorgeous best friend," Amy smirks, "How times change."

"For sure," I agree absently, rifling through my stuff for my curling iron, "ten minutes, Ames."

Forty-five minutes later, and fifteen minutes early, I have Amy looking like a vixen. She's showing off the girls, she's got some makeup on and I even managed to get her contacts in her eyes. I may just reward myself with a glass of wine.

"Now remember," I instruct her as I spritz some of my favorite perfume, Britney Spears's _Curious_, on her. (Don't judge me. It doesn't smell like dirty redneck, I swear.) "Sheldon's a pain in the ass. He's a giant ego-maniac, who loves to be told how wonderful he is. _Don't_ give in. Keep 'em wanting more."

"What if he wants more?" Amy asks, intrigue. Again, I've cornered myself into an awkward situation, because we're talking Shamy here.

"Uh…just go with your instinct!" I tell her, patting her half-heartedly on the arm. I'm officially _out_ of this conversation.

_Knock, knock, knock. _

"Amy." Amy and I glance at each other and I roll my eyes, retreating to the kitchen.

_Knock, knock, knock. _

"Amy." Amy starts to open the door, but I shake my head tiredly.

"Nah…let the weirdo finish. It'll be better for all of us," I tell her, perching at the kitchen table and pouring some wine into a Styrofoam cup. Yum.

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Amy."

The door opens to reveal Sheldon, _thankfully_ not decked out in plaid. Actually, he looks very nice in his black suit. If I didn't know him so well, I'd think he was a _real_ boy!

"I had considered purchasing flowers for you, but I concluded that it would be money better spent toward something that won't die within the week," Sheldon explains, stepping into the room. "Which is why I have decided to bring you this new book of Cooper Coupons."

Oh crap on a cracker. He did _not._

"She don't want your crappy coupons, Moon-Pie!" I call out from the table, rolling my eyes at him. His head snaps toward me so fast, he may have pulled a muscle.

"Your grammar is, as always, thrilling," he retorts, scathingly, "And, once again, I must request that you refrain from calling me Moon-Pie."

"When you stop correcting my grammar, I'll stop calling you Moon-Pie," I reply, winking at him and taking a sip of wine. I notice his eyes narrow at me for a moment, before he purses his lips.

"Very well," He sighs, turning back to Amy, "I think there are some coupons in here you may find useful. You'll notice that there is one for a lesson in speaking Kling-On."

"Oh dear God," I mutter, staring into the cup.

"And what are you settling in for?" Sheldon challenges, eyeing my Styrofoam cup. "A rousing night of drinking yourself into oblivion?"

"Yep," I nod, grinning at him proudly. "It's the dinner of champions I'll have you know."

"You're absurd," He rolls his eyes at me.

"If you're finished, we should get going," Amy cuts in dryly, tossing the coupons on the coffee table and grabbing her purse, "Our reservations are for seven fifteen." Turning to me she sighs, "Are you sure you don't need me to stay? As your best friend, I am obligated to see you through good times and bad."

"No!" I tell her, waving her out, "Go have fun—" My eyes drift to her crabby, huffy boyfriend, "ish."

It isn't until Amy grabs Sheldon's hand that I feel that weirdness again. It's like a punch in the gut. And I _know_ it's not gas this time. All I've eaten is Frosted Flakes! The only way I can explain it is that for like a millionth of a second, I wish it was me walking out that door.

Uh oh.

I'm sorry, what creepy as shit universe have I fallen into? Is this some weird form of jealousy? Yeah, _okay…_Yeah, Penny…_think_ about this. A date with _Sheldon_, the kook who just offered his poor, naïve girlfriend some cheap ass coupons that he made up so he could get away with things instead of flowers.

Yep. It's official. I need to get off my ass and get the eff out of here for a while.

Once Amy and her tall, whacky ass B.F. leave, I text Bernadette, who I suspect is probably stuck sitting on the couch with Mrs. Wolowitz watching reruns of _Mama's Family_ or something.

_**Are u free? I need to get out.**_

She must be right by the phone, because she responds barely thirty seconds later.

_**Be there in 5!**_

Okay, distraction: Check. I run into my room and assess the clothes in my closet, before grabbing a bubblegum pink dress and tossing it onto the bed. It's been a while since I've worn this, but I'm trying to feel good here. Maybe I'm not the rail thin, bubbly blonde I was five years ago, but I still look good. I don't even have time to take off my dingy sweats when there's a knock at the door. Damn, Bernadette must have _flown_ out of that house. Poor thing.

"Hey!" I say, opening the door and stepping aside so that she can come in. She looks flustered.

"Oh my gosh! I cannot thank you enough for texting!" She chirps, flopping onto the couch and sighing, "Mrs. Wolowitz asked me to check her for hemorrhoids. " She shudders, making me laugh, leaning against the back of the couch.

"Well, there's always rose scented Preparation-H," I raise an eyebrow, smirking at her, "The 'H' stands for _her."_ Bernadette groans and clocks me in the face with a throw pillow while I descend into laughter, snorting _very_ attractively.

"That's _disgusting!"_ She squeals, covering her eyes. "I don't know what to do, Penny. Howie's not even back yet, and I already hate living in his mother's house. She's needy, and loud…she keeps asking me to rub her feet…I mean, we get along fine, but I don't know if I can live the rest of my…or _her_…life with her!"

"Uh, you need to talk to the man in the skinny jeans…not me, hon," I remind her. "Come on, I'm gonna change, then let's go have cosmos."

"Oh, bless your alcohol loving heart!" Bernadette grins.

I quickly change and run a brush through my hair, before throwing on some makeup and a little perfume. Within a half hour, I'm good to go, and we're heading out to our favorite restaurant and sit at the bar. The place is crowded since it's Saturday night, but there are two seats at the end of the bar and the bartender is kind of sexy. There may be some hope for me after all!

"Hey, girls! What can I get you? I make a pretty good Sex on the Beach if I do say so myself."

Nope. Wrong team.

"We will both have Cosmos," I tell him, winking and tossing my hair over my shoulder. God _damn_ he has a beautiful smile.

"Can I have a glass of water too?" Bernadette asks, climbing up into the stool.

"You got it, Sweetie," the guy says, "I'm Adam if you need anything else." He moves away and I turn to Bernadette.

"Why are they _always_ gay?" Her eyebrows furrow in confusion for a sec, before she looks back at him and gasps.

"He _is?_" She squeals, "How can you tell?"

"Oh, Sweetie, if it were any plainer, it would be written on his forehead," I answer affectionately, giving her a half grin as our drinks are set in front of us.

"I miss Howie," She sighs, staring wistfully into the pink fluid of her drink. "Every night before bed, we would play this game—"

"_Ah!"_ I cry, shaking my head. "Nope. Don't wanna know!"

"Well, well, well," A voice comes from behind us, "Imagine that, us all ending up at the same place." Slowly, Bernadette and I turn around and I wince for a second, realizing we've just unknowingly horned in on Shamy's weekly date.

"Aw, crap!" I mutter, "Sorry guys, we're just having a drink, you don't have to worry—"

"No need to apologize," Sheldon sighs, looking irritated, "I had reason to suspect that my food had been tampered with, so we are on our way out." Oh, Lord. I can only imagine what Sheldon said or did to his server to make them snap, but the feisty side of me is kind of amused. It's _so_ him.

"Well, why don't you go back to Amy's and let her give you some lovin'?" Bernadette inserts gently, giggling a little while I take a long sip of my Cosmo.

"Believe me, I've suggested it," Amy tells us dryly, eyeing the large crackpot who she is dating.

"Is that all you infernal females ever think about?" Sheldon huffs, rolling his eyes.

"Um, that's what _we're_ supposed to be asking you!" I chuckle, meeting Amy's hopeful eyes. "Okay...I'll see you at home later." I turn back to the bar after they say their goodbyes and leave. That's when Bernadette gets a phone call from Mrs. Wolowitz.

"_Damn!"_ She hisses, before answering her cell phone and walking away from the bar. I decide to check my Facebook on my phone, even though I know damn well nothing's changed in the past four minutes. A second later, someone bumps into me and I knock my drink over, flying away as it pours over the counter.

"Oh shit! I'm sorry!" A guy says while I assess the damage to make sure I don't have booze all over my lap. Luckily, I still have somewhat decent reflexes and escape unscathed.

"No, it's fine, I'm just—" I look up to notice an extremely hot man grinning down at me, wearing a fitted T-Shirt.

"I'm Eric. My friend is an ass," He explains, gesturing toward his laughing, obviously drunk buddies nearby. I feel my face heat up and I hope I don't look like a huge moron.

"No biggie," I shrug, holding my hand out to him, "I'm Penny."

"That's different! I would have guessed you were a Brittany or Tiffany," He chuckles, folding his arms as Bernadette rejoins us.

"Hey, I have to go, Mrs. Wolowitz needs help getting into the bath," She sighs, "I cannot wait until Howie comes back next week."

"Oh…" I look from her to Eric, torn between having to leave and wanting to at least squeak out a number from this fine specimen. "You know, I think I'll just hang here and call a cab when I'm ready to go home." Bernadette's eyes narrow as she glances at Eric, obviously leery of leaving me alone with some strange dude. Ah, the things desperation will do for you.

"Penny, I don't know…" She begins, pushing her glasses up.

"Sweetie, I used to do rodeo. These guys are nothing compared to cattle," I assure her. This seems to slightly sway her as she nods.

"I'll text you tomorrow, okay?" She tells me pointedly, giving Eric another look. I have to give the girl credit. She's tough as nails and she isn't afraid of anything…except having a kid.

"Here, let me buy you a new drink," Eric says, turning toward Adam .

"Okay," I smile at him, "I'm gonna run to the restroom." Really, I'm going to go and slap on a little more makeup. It's been kind of a long time since I've tried to pick up a new guy…Zack was the last one. So, I dash back to the restroom and quickly add some eyeliner and lip gloss, before agitatedly arranging my hair. When I come back out into the bar area, Eric waves me over to his table where my new drink awaits me. What started as a boring Saturday has suddenly turned into a night of possibilities.

"So," I say, sitting beside him and giving him (what I hope is) a flirtatious look, "I hope I'm not intruding on your night or anything."

"No, not at all," He assures me, giving me half a grin. Four years ago, this would have been a no-brainer for me. Meet guys. Flirt with guys. Go home with guys. Now, it's just kind of making me feel creepy and wrong. Maybe I'm past this phase. I don't _want_ to go home with this dude and wake up tomorrow wondering what the hell happened any more than I wanted to be a waitress at The Cheesecake Factory.

Aw, crap. This must be what growing up feels like. I quickly finish my Cosmo and give Eric an apologetic look.

"Listen," I begin, feeling a little tipsy from the rapid alcohol consumption, "I just got out of a relationship and I don't think I'm ready—"

"But we're all heading over to a party on the UCLA campus!" Eric protests, looking disappointed.

"Aren't you like thirty?" I ask, blinking against the sudden tiredness I feel and backing up toward the bar.

"Look," He says, getting up and starting toward me, "Just come with us and—"

"She isn't going anywhere with you, Sweetheart," Adam, the bartender says, moving beside me and handing me my purse. "I think you should leave."

"Oh, don't get all high and mighty, Princess," Eric's friend says, standing. "We're allowed to make friends."

"Oh, that's not a problem," Adam says, putting his arm around my waist. I lean against him, gripping his shoulder for support because my legs suddenly feel like Jell-O. "The _problem_ is the fact that I saw you put something in her drink. That's _kind _of not cool." Adam looks down at me. (_Damn_ he's hot). "Come on, Penny, I'll take you home, okay? My shift is ending."

"Mmmkay," I slur, grinning at him and then back at Eric, "Nice meetin' ya."

Adam has to practically carry me to his car, and the sane Penny who is trapped inside my mind is vaguely registering that I've just been roofied. I'm such an idiot. But I can't stop _giggling. _

"So, you're _sure_ you're gay?" I ask, trailing my finger over poor Adam's shoulder. It's like I'm acting like a complete idiot, but there's nothing I can do to stop it.

"Yep," He chuckles, "I've known since I was ten."

"Jesus," I giggle, "too bad, because you're freakin' gorgeous."

"Thanks, Sweetie. If I swung that way at _all_, I'd totally tap you," He adds, looking worried, but keeping the smile on his face. "What's your address?"

"Um…" I scrunch my face up, trying to remember the new one. "Three twenty Oak Knoll," I sigh, closing my eyes and laying my head back against the seat. When I open my eyes again, I'm being pulled gently from the car and carried.

"Which apartment, Penny?" Adam asks, as I try to remember how to talk.

"Uh…three-one-four," I mumble, laying my head against his shoulder as he reaches out to buzz 314.

"Hello, who's there?" Amy's calm voice comes through the speaker.

"Ames, S'me!" I blurt drunkenly, inwardly cringing at the way I can't control myself.

"My name is Adam, I brought your roommate home. She's been drugged," He explains calmly. A second later, the door buzzes open and Adam's helping me walk in. There's an elevator at this one. I love that. I wouldn't have made it up four flights at Los Robles. They're waiting for me in the doorway, like expectant parents ready to scold a teenager who's out past curfew. Which only seems to amuse me further. Amy looks kind of scared out of her mind, but Sheldon kind of surprises me, because he looks angry, but not how-dare-you-ruin-my-routine angry.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Amy asks, reaching out for me. Adam shakes his head.

"No need, it's just a roofie," He explains, "Luckily, I heard two of the guys at the bar laughing about it and that's when I noticed Penny down her drink. She should be fine tomorrow."

"Thank you, sexy Adam!" I laugh, kissing his cheek. He gives me a small smile and nods, turning to Sheldon.

"Listen, this is my number. Can one of you maybe give me a call tomorrow so I can check on her?"

"I will, I'm her best friend," Amy answers, taking the number and pocketing it. That's when I notice Sheldon's shirt is slightly untucked and his hair is kind of a mess…and Amy's in kind of the same shape. If I was sober and didn't know any better, I would have thought I was interrupting—

"Were you two making _out?_" I gasp, clasping my hand over my mouth as Amy shuts the door and locks it.

"Under the new stipulations of our Relationship Agreement," Sheldon begins, eyeing me, "we have agreed to make gradual progress toward—"

"Coitus?" I laugh, slapping his arm.

"Erm…that _is_ the general goal, yes," Sheldon sighs, "My Meemaw has expressed a desire to see me eventually have a wife and children, and as she is getting on in years, I thought it best to attempt to alter my views on copulation and possible reproduction."

"Copulation…" I look at Amy, "rhymes with _population…_an' you have to _copulate _to _populate…_" I snort with laughter, "Get it?" I hit Sheldon's arm, making him yelp, "_Get it?"_

"Yes!" He whines, rubbing his arm. I try to move toward the hallway leading to my bedroom and practically fall on my face. Thankfully, Amy and Sheldon are close enough to each grab an arm.

"Well, I won' bother you no more, 'kay?" I assure them, gripping Sheldon's shirt in my hand and _possibly_ wiping a little drool on his arm. Could be worse I guess…I could puke on him. (Lord knows he's puked on me before…_Disneyland)._

"Sheldon," Amy says as we get to my doorway, "Can you get Penny into her bed? I'm going to get her some water."

"He's done it before!" I chime in, waggling my eyebrows at him and laughing. Amy nods and rushes back toward the kitchen while I lean on the world's weakest man for support. Seriously, his motto should be, 'Sheldon Cooper: I can lift feathers!'

So, because Sheldon is tall and about as gangly as a baby giraffe, I trip over his ankle, sending us both flying onto the bed with me falling on top of him. His eyes widen for a half second as he registers the fact that I'm pinning him down. This is only_ more _amusing to me.

"Look at you," I laugh, ruffling his hair while he glares at me, trying to escape me. "Are you ticklish?" I ask, not hesitating as I fully invade his private space and put my hand up his untucked shirt and squeeze his side. He totally squeals like an eight year old girl while I chortle into his shoulder.

"_Amy!"_ He shrieks, acting like I have him tied up while I set his comic book collection on fire.

"I'm on the phone, Sheldon!" Amy cries from outside the room, "It's Leonard!"

"Shh…" I put my hand over Sheldon's mouth as his eyes nearly bug out of his head, "You jus' need to be quiet." His eyes blaze blue fire at me as his fingers wrap around my wrist and pull my hand off of his mouth.

"This is so beyond the parameters of a mere strike—"

"Oh, shush," I roll my eyes, holding him down by the shoulders, "I'm not gonna try to rape you."

"You very nearly _are_," He mutters, feebly attempting to push me off of him again.

"Leonard wants to know if he should come over!" Amy's voice comes from the bedroom.

"_I_ don't care _what_ Leonard wants!" Sheldon cries, "Hang up the phone and get _in_ here!"

"Are you mad at me?" I ask, pouting down at him, "Why don' you love me no more?"

"Penny," He sighs, propping himself up on his elbows, "there are so many problems with what you just said, I couldn't even begin to start correcting—"

"You jus' think I'm a dumb blonde hick from Omaha, don'tcha?" I ask, tilting my head and watching his eyes darken. That's when he finally seems to find some strength and rolls me off him, fleeing to the corner of the bed.

"I have not ever, nor _would_ I, refer to you as a dumb blonde. Your lack of knowledge isn't due to lack of intelligence. It's due to lack of education and application. Granted, your rural upbringing and participation in junior rodeo and farm chores would indicate that you are from the country, I would never refer to you as a _hick._ My mother would have my head on a platter. If that was the case, then I would be considered nothing but a Texas hick."

"Hmm," I say thoughtfully, tilting my head at him, "Ya know…when you aren't being all…_you…_you're kinda cute."

"I think that was a compliment, so I'm going to accept it as such," He tells me, rising and moving to guide me to lie down. "Not that you'll remember any of this once the Flunitrazepam leaves your system."

"The fluni-wha?" I ask, smirking at him as he removes my shoes and gingerly sets them aside.

"Better known as Rohypnol…" I stare blankly at him. "Rufilin," he goes on. Still no idea. "_Roofies."_

"Oh, balls. I knew you were goin' somewhere with that," I laugh, watching him nervously smooth his hands over his sides and start to step toward the door. Lurching forward I reach out and grab his hand, watching him freeze and stare down at it like he has a growth coming out of his arm. He does! He has a Penelope growing out of his spindly little arm. When I'm sober, that will _probably _seem less funny.

"Um, thank you," I hear myself say, relaxing down against the pillows. My eyelids are suddenly heavy. "M'Sorry for ruining your night with Amy." I barely register his hand leave mine and feel something tickle my forehead, almost like a feather.

That's when I black out.


	5. Jealousy, Thou Art A Heartless Bitch

I wake up unsure of where I am and how I got here. My head is pounding and I have a clump of hair dried to my face with drool. Hot. For a second, I'm confused because this isn't my bedroom. Then I realize it _is._ This is my new bedroom. In Amy's apartment. Turning my head, I make sure I am A. Alone, and B. Clothed. Check and check.

Thank. God.

Dragging myself out of the bed, I sway a little and try to remember what the hell happened last night. I don't even remember drinking very much. I had one Cosmo, Bernadette had to leave, I met that guy, went to the bathroom and then…

Nothing.

What the hell _happened?_ I get little flashes of things in my mind, but nothing solid. I see Amy and Sheldon with rumpled clothes. I see Sheldon on my bed. Holy crap on a cracker. What the _crap _happened?! Pulling a robe around myself, I pad out into the living room and hear Amy and Sheldon talking to each other quietly, so I pause in the hallway for just a minute. (Yes, I'm eavesdropping.)

"…has no regard for herself, nor her own safety," Sheldon is saying, "This is why I never longed for friends. It's a distraction."

"Sheldon, it is human nature to care for others," Amy chuckles, "Despite what Dr. Hofstadter claims in her book, people have a basic need for comfort and affection. Even me. Even _you._"

"So you've striven to show me," I hear him reply, but his voice is different. It's softer, almost like he smiling. I feel a weird prickling in the pit of my stomach. It's that weird punch in the gut, and even if it is partially due to the fact that my insides are still roiling with alcohol (I think), it's not like being hung over. It's like, I want to fling myself into the next room and yell _"Mine!"_

I don't know what it is. But I _do_ know I don't like it. Because it feels an _awful _lot like something else and it can't be _that._ Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I've finally drunk enough alcohol to completely destroy my brain cells. Maybe I'm terminally ill.

Please let it be cancer.

Because I can't be _that_. That's ridiculous. It makes no damned sense. _**Jealous**__._ No. Not me. Not Sheldon. Not ever. It's Sheldon! Tall, skinny, lanky, goofy Sheldon who drives me crazy and insults me at every opportunity…wears his hair the same way he did when he was six. _Sheldon._ The guy who never wanted a girlfriend. The guy who was married to science. The guy who never gave me a choice in being part of his life.

The guy.

"_All right, honey, let me tell you story. There was a guy I liked, and I never told him how I felt. Eventually, he started dating someone else, and I always regretted it. Do you…see where I'm going with this?"_

"_I believe I do. I'm the guy." _

You're not the guy. At least, you weren't. Not even close. When did it change? What did I _miss?_ Sheldon. I am _jealous._ Of Sheldon and Amy. Oh God. Oh, Amy. Poor Amy. My _best_ friend. She took me in and has been the most reliable person I've ever known (besides Leonard). And what do I do? I go and develop a thing for Sheldon…her _boyfriend._ The only boyfriend she's ever had.

Nope. Not happening. This is just a side effect of the booze. No drinking anymore. I do not have a _thing_ for Sheldon. Peeking my head around the corner to make sure I'm not interrupting anything, I sag in relief when I see them sitting close together, but only watching T.V. Clearing my throat to indicate my presence, I step into the room, watching them both turn to face me over the back of the couch. That's when I notice that Sheldon is still wearing the wrinkled dress shirt he had yesterday. Which means he spent the night, which _could_ mean…

Yeah right. Focus, dumbass.

"Hey guys," I say, toying with the tie of my robe and looking down at my feet sheepishly.

"Oh good," Sheldon mutters dryly, "Luckily the drugs have made their way out of your system."

"Drugs?" I say, looking to Amy for help. She sighs, getting up and walking around the couch. "I didn't do drugs. I don't _do_ drugs. I mean, I've smoked pot a few times in my life, but—"

"Sheldon is referring to the Rufilin that was slipped into your Cosmopolitan," Amy says, making me stumble backward and almost trip over a chair.

"_Rufilin?"_ I shriek, "You mean, _roofies?_"

"Bravo," Sheldon inserts bitingly, shaking his head and making me glare at him. Good. I like that. It helps with the…the thing. Be as mean as you want, Moon-Pie. Please…

"Here," Amy says, handing me a slip of paper. I look down and see a phone number scrawled down on it. "This is the number of Adam, the bartender."

"The sexy gay dude?" I ask, staring blankly at the paper.

"Ah, that explains it," Amy nods, "Yes, that one. He asked me to have you call him this morning to make sure that you are well. He figured out you had been drugged and brought you home." I don't look at Sheldon, but I hear him scoff and turn back toward the T.V. "Don't mind him. He slept in a chair."

"Why?" I ask, suppressing a chuckle as I try to imagine the temper tantrum Dr. I-Only-Sleep-In-My-Own-Bed threw when he didn't have his Saturday Pajamas at hand.

"Well, _somebody_ had to make sure your stupidity didn't cause you to expire during the night," Sheldon's replies, not sparing us a glance. Amy grins, but shakes her head while I stare at the back of his head in confusion.

"You…sat in my room?"

"Weren't you listening?" He asks moodily, turning toward me again, "How else would I have known that you were well?"

"Sheldon, she had one Rufilin," Amy answers, "That's hardly enough to kill her."

"Okay," I sigh, putting my hands up in defeat, "Thank you…_both_, for helping me. I just want you guys to know that I am done. Okay? No more drinking." And I mean it. This is out of hand. I drink half of my life away. When I was younger, it was to have a good time. But now…I don't even know whyI drink. I don't enjoy it. I drink to forget. I drink to get away from the aching loneliness I feel in the pit of my gut every night. I drink to fill a void that I don't know how to fix. I drink because I'm lost.

But I'm done.

Because, how can I _ever_ really love anyone else until I am okay with myself? And I'm not. Yet. Because it's not my love life I need to fix. It's me. So, I'm going to start small. First thing's first.

I step forward and hug Amy, feeling her surprise as she tentatively settles her arms around me.

"Thank you," I say softly to her, "for everything."

"What are best friends for?" She replies easily, pulling away. And I feel a lump in my throat. Because I don't deserve her.

"More than I've given you," I say, choking up. "But I'm going to be better." I squeeze her hand and turn toward the couch, shoving my hands into the pockets of my robe. "And you," I say to Sheldon, managing a smile as I reach out and pat his head (receiving a strange look from him). I don't say anything else, because I don't need to. He understands. He always does. I turn away, and retreat to the relative safety of my bedroom, shutting the door behind me and sinking to sit on the floor against it as I put my face in my hands and cry it out. And it feels _good_. It's cleansing. All of that baggage I've been carrying around, leaving one piece at a time with each guttural sob. It's the best I've felt all year.

I'm going to be okay. I think – no – I _know._

Wiping at my eyes, I pull myself off of the floor and move over to the bed, grabbing my phone, which was magically placed on the charger. I think I have an idea. I dial Adam's number and he answers on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Adam. It's…Penny," I say into the phone, wiping my nose with the sleeve of my robe.

"Penny, honey…" His voice is gentle, before he speaks to someone who is with him, "It's the one I told you about last night," He comes back to me, "I'm glad you called."

"How can I ever thank you?" I say, exhaling slowly. He chuckles.

"No thanks necessary, love," He assures me, "I'd want someone to do the same for me."

"Well, I owe you one," I tell him, feeling my eyes water again, "If I ever find a new job, I'll buy you dinner…or a car…or something." He laughs out loud.

"You know, I think we're hiring at The Brown Derby," He says, "We're short a bartender. It's not the greatest work, but the tips are great. Do you have experience?"

"Too _much _experience," I mutter, but I laugh. I'm in no position to refuse any line of work now. And if it _has_ to be in the restaurant biz, I might as well do something I'm good at. And I'm damn good at mixing drinks. I just suck at drinking them. But if it is my purpose to make the world a better place by saucing people up one Martini at a time, then so be it.

"Awesome," He laughs. "We open at eleven. Come up today and fill out an app. I'll put in a good word."

"Now I'll owe you _two,"_ I remind him, smiling despite myself.

"I'll just put it on your tab," Adam says, "See you in a bit!"

"Okay. Bye!" I hang up, feeling a small twinge of fear and yet, there's hope. Everything is going to change. I'm going to change. I'm going to be better. Alone. I get dressed, shower and throw my hair back into a braid, before going out to check on the Shamy. Sheldon has gone home and Amy is sorting clothes on the couch while checking things off on a legal pad.

"Whatcha doin', Ames?" I ask, perching on the arm of the couch.

"Preparing for my trip," She explains, looking up at me, "I know I'll only be gone a week, and I experienced my menses a little over a week ago, I'm unsure as to whether I should pack provisions for menstruation to be safe."

"I wouldn't," I tell her, cringing a little, "if somehow you have an…uh…accident…you can always buy some there." Her eyes light up with appreciation as she nods approvingly at me.

"World wise and drop dead gorgeous, with a slightly self-destructive edge. Who _don't_ you appeal to?" She asks me and I raise an eyebrow at her and sigh.

"Me," I tell her. "But I will. I'm going to get a job. Today, hopefully. But if not…this week. I've already taken advantage of you too much."

"Nonsense. You would do the same for me…right?" That's when I see it. The hope and need for reassurance in her eyes. She still thinks us being friends is too good to be true. I really _don't _deserve her.

"In a _heartbeat,_" I tell her, without hesitation. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow," She answers. "Leonard has arranged for us to have rooms at the Marriott. I must admit, even though Leonard and I had an enjoyable time at that wedding last year, I am unsure how we will fare on a trip together. He is somewhat cloying and insecure. Not to mention, he is no doubt still reeling from losing you for the second time."

"Leonard is a great person," I tell her, feeling my heart ache a little at the thought of my wonderful ex, "He deserves someone equally wonderful. He is sweet and genuine and just…too good to be true. But he and I…we aren't…we don't—"

"I understand," Amy nods, "I've seen the same thing in the primate studies. One of my female chimps just wouldn't take to the male we intended to mate her with. There was no rhyme or reason to it. She simply felt no biological pull to him. But when we brought in another of the males…she took to him without hesitation."

"Monkey soul mates…adorable," I laugh, ignoring the regret I feel at hurting Leonard again. "Well, I hope Leonard finds his monkey."

"Penny, we are all primates," Amy reminds me, smirking as she turns back to her clothes.

"Yeah, yeah…" I tap her shoulder, "So, how goes the mission to make Pinocchio into a real boy?"

"You're referring to my progress with Sheldon, I'm assuming?" She replies, not looking away from the skirt she's folding.

"Yep." And for a second, I'm kind of afraid of what she's going to say. I don't know if I should know after my mini-mental breakdown this morning with the J word. And I don't mean _Jeepers._

"We've attempted French Kissing," Amy says and I swallow. Yep. Should have kept my damn mouth shut. Still don't want to hear it. Good for her. Good for _them._ But no. I can't do it.

"Cool," I reply, swiftly making a mental note to end this conversation. I've seen Sheldon and Amy kiss. Briefly. On the lips. But picturing them getting hot and heavy…I can't. At least not without imagining what kissing Sheldon would be like. And that's absurd. But it's like a song you hear on the radio like that awful _Call Me, Maybe_ song…it just keeps running through my head. And I wonder if he'd act the same way he always does…approaching it with the cold clarity of a scientist…or would he be just another guy? Would it affect him?

Deal or no deal?

I don't know. I don't want to know. Because Sheldon isn't my boyfriend, and he never will be. And it's better that way, because if I couldn't make it work with someone like _Leonard,_ then how could I _possibly_ make it work with someone like Sheldon? That chick Ramona was practically his wife for weeks and he never made a move on _her._

"_I know what's going on here." _

"_Really? Well, then will you explain it to me?" _

"_You're in love with Dr. Cooper!"_

"_Uh, yeah, no, that's not it…" _

In the words of Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind…'I'll think about that tomorrow.' Because I have bigger things to do today. I have to go get a job. One that doesn't involve my wearing a mustard yellow vest and a white blouse. I tell Amy goodbye and head out, feeling the humidity hit me like an oven. The Brown Derby is just opening when I come in and Adam is already at the bar, looking all sexy (and not straight).

"Penny!" He grins, moving around the bar to hug me like we've known each other for years. "I'm glad you came. My manager Liz is just in the kitchen. Let me grab her so you can get an application and talk to her really quick. One sec." He bounds off toward the kitchen, leaving me standing near the bar, tapping my fingers nervously. They return a few seconds later. Liz is a woman maybe in her late thirties with light blonde hair and an expression on her face that reminds me scarily of my sister Darcy.

"Hi. Liz," She says, holding her hand out for me to take. "You're Penny, right?"

"Yes." I share a look with Adam, who nods encouragingly.

"You got experience in bartending?" She asks bluntly, making me blink.

"I…uh, yes. I do," I answer, biting my lip. "Four years of it."

"Alright. Good. You start tomorrow." She hands me a piece of paper. "Fill this out." I gape at her, taking the application and shaking my head in disbelief.

"But, I…aren't you going to interview me?" I look at Adam again. He looks dangerously like he's suppressing a laugh.

"Just did. I don't have time to be picky. I need a bartender. You're a bartender. Fill this out. We'll take care of the payroll paperwork tomorrow. Welcome to The Brown Derby. Lucky you." She grins for a moment, before nodding. "I have a wait staff to scream at. Excuse me." She hurries away, leaving me with Adam. I shrug, unable to hold back a smile.

"That was…easy."

"Yeah, Liz is pretty low maintenance. But don't piss her off," He tells me. "She has three boys at home and she has no patience."

"Noted." I laugh. "What do I wear?"

"Just wear a pair of khakis and you'll get your polo shirt tomorrow," He tells me, "I'll be training you, so we'll be fine. After Jayla, I think anyone would be fine for the job. Liz caught her banging one of the waiters in the janitorial closet."

"Yikes," I mutter, "Gross."

"Yeah. She was not the brightest bulb," He agrees, giving a wry snicker. "Well, I have to get to work. There are drinks to be made. The local alcoholics will be in soon enough."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow," I tell him, rushing forward to hug him. "Thank you for everything. Next one's on me, okay?"

"Okay." He pats my arm and heads back behind the bar as I leave The Brown Derby to return home and tell my roommate that I can actually pay my share now. Even though it's another damn restaurant job, it's something. It's work. And I'm in no position to be picky. So, I'll do it. But not forever. I'm making that promise to myself right now. I will not be a waitress or bartender for the rest of my life.

Maybe it's habit, but instead of turning onto Oak Knoll, I keep driving a few blocks and turn onto Los Robles. I'm halfway into the building before I realize that this isn't my home anymore. And that sucks. I miss my home. But, I'm already here, so I'm going up. And I trudge up all four flights of stairs with a longing that I can't suppress. I want to go to the top of these stairs and turn right and go lie on my blue couch and look into my empty fridge. And I want my slippery bathtub with the adhesive duck stickers that Sheldon gave me over two years ago. I want it so badly, it hurts. I don't know how long I stand staring at the door to 4B, before I hear the door behind me open.

"Penny?"

I don't waste a moment, before I turn and bound forward, throwing my arms around Sheldon, despite his futile protests as Leonard comes to the door worriedly, hearing Sheldon's shriek and the commotion.

"Hey!" He says, "You okay?" I nod, pushing away from the poor germaphobe and sagging against the door frame.

"No," I sigh, giving him a sad smile, "But I will be. I got a job." Leonard's eyes light up.

"Great! Where at?"

"The Brown Derby," I explain, "Over by Olive Garden."

"Penny," Sheldon whines, ushering us all inside and closing the door. "After the ghastly meal I was subjected to last evening, I don't think I can stomach another meal from there."

"No one said you had to eat there, kiddo," I remind him, sinking into the armchair and draping my legs over the arm, earning yet another disapproving look from Dr. Whackadoodle.

"But I've had to endure my Tuesday night cheeseburger from Pam at The Cheesecake Factory and she never gets it right," He laments, sitting in his spot. "This week, not only did she forget to give me the bacon on the side, but I saw her touch the burger with her _hand._"

"_No…"_ I reply, feigning horror as I melodramatically put my hand to my face.

"Yes," He nods, not picking up on the sarcasm (as usual). Leonard and I share a snicker.

"I better get back in and finish packing," Leonard sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"A problem which could have been avoided if you hadn't procrastinated," Sheldon points out arrogantly, making me kick his foot.

"Be nice, Moon-Pie," I warn him, feeling some semblance of normalcy again, "We're not all compulsively organized like you."

"Indeed," Sheldon nods humbly, "I forget that." I snort, rolling my eyes and getting up.

"Can I have a Mountain Dew?" I ask, already walking toward the fridge.

"_May_ I have a Mountain Dew," He corrects me, "No you _may_ not."

"Too bad," I snip, opening the fridge and taking one, "I'm taking one anyway."

"Penny!" He cries, crossing the room in an instant, trying to wrestle the bottle out of my hand. I grin, holding it out of his reach. "That's a—"

"Strike?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. He makes another grab for the bottle and I turn away from him before he can get it, despite his weak attempts to reach around me and take it. But the sneaky bastard is quicker than I give him credit for and manages to wrap his fingers around the bottom of it, pulling. So, using my scrappy think-fast approach, I whirl around, "Sorry," I say, "You're right," I lick the cap, before offering it to him. "Here!" Needless to say, Dr. Don't-Touch-My-Food Cooper flies away so fast, he nearly takes flight.

"You are positively prime evil," He groans, rolling his eyes at me and stalking back to his spot.

"Aw, thanks!" I smile, and then stop dead. I'm _flirting_ with him. This is flirting. And the weird thing is, I'm acting the same as always…but I never knew. I've been flirting with Sheldon for five years. Oh my God, have had always had some weird thing for him? Like that first night when we all went to Sushioke…

Oh kill me.

Without another word, I walk to the sink and remove the Clorox wipes from the cupboard, wiping the bottle down and putting it back in the fridge. Turning back to Sheldon, I can't imagine the stricken sick as a cat look on my face as I shake my head.

"I'm sorry," I say, swallowing, "I should probably…" I start toward the door.

"Penny?" I hear the change in his voice. Congratulations, Penny. You've managed to freak out _Sheldon._ You've finally reached a new level of whacko. I turn to see him standing in front of his spot looking unsure as to what he should do. He obviously doesn't know the social protocol for dealing with loonies. "It's just Mountain Dew, Penny." I can only stare at him, lost. I have no idea what to say. Or do. Or feel. Now would be a good time for a drink. But it's not happening. I don't need a drink. I need to get out of here fast.

"I can't do this," I say, without thinking, "I have to go."

"Penny, wait!" He protests, moving toward me as I throw the door open and dash out, nearly knocking over poor Raj, who is in the hall, in the process and barely mumbling a 'sorry' to him._ "Penny!"_ I hear Sheldon's worried voice from above as I practically jump down the stairs. I'm nearly to the second floor when I lose my footing and tumble to the floor unceremoniously. I'm probably lucky I have experience with horses, because my Junior Rodeo instinct kicks in and I maneuver myself so that I fall without hurting myself horribly. I cringe as the quick footsteps behind me stop and Sheldon appears at the bottom of the stairs on the second floor. "Penny…" He says chidingly, coming toward me. I shake my head, waving him away.

"Just go back upstairs, Sheldon, okay?" I rub my temples tiredly.

"What has gotten into you?" He asks, crouching beside me. I force myself to look up into his face and I can't deny it anymore. I kind of want to kiss him…just to know what it's like. I want to hold his hand and kiss the skin that's rubbed pink because he washes them so often. I want to know if this is just a momentary lapse in sanity or if I really am dumb enough to develop feelings for a goofball like Sheldon Cooper.

Funny, he's the sane one here and I'm the Whackadoodle. I scramble to my feet and lean against the useless elevator door, unable to leave, but too weak to leave.

"Nothing," I finally answer him, "I'm fine." I find the will to walk away, but I'm stopped when he reaches out and gently grabs my arm.

"Why are you leaving?" He asks and I turn to squarely meet his eyes.

"Because I _have_ to."

And I do.


	6. Where's MY Patrick Swayze?

**I said I wasn't going to post A/N's any more, but this is necessary.**

**If you feel the need to whine about/bash Leonard…do it elsewhere. I don't want to hear it, nor will I ever agree with it. Thanks. **

**-DG**

* * *

My first day of work is not too bad. My training mostly involves the computer system that The Brown Derby uses, which is pretty similar to the one The Cheesecake Factory uses. The only difference is that instead of an I.D. card, you enter a pin and the options are in different spots. But, I guess if you work in one restaurant, you've worked in them all. I work ten to six and then head home (to Amy's). I've decided not to go over to the guys' place tonight for Thai. After yesterday, there's no way I'm going to face that again. Clearly, I can't be trusted. I've suddenly realized that I want to play tonsil hockey with Sheldon "Chastity" Cooper, so I think I just need to take a little time to myself and contemplate the meaning of life…and why I've lost my freaking mind.

Can I just say I love Adam? He's just the most wonderful, genuine, adorable person I've known in a while. And he's so darn cute. While working with him, I've learned that he has a partner named Kyle and they've just moved in together. His parents disowned him when he finally came out to them last year. Dad's a minister and Mom just plain doesn't approve. It makes me appreciate the fact that, while my parents are a little nutty, they are wonderful, loving people who work hard and support their family. I mean, my brother Tim used to cook meth in their tool shed and Darcy got pregnant at fifteen, so I guess they're up for anything.

Yes, I'm the non-fuck up in that family. What is this world coming to?

But, despite my utter confusion and general idiocy over the Sheldon situation, I'm in a pretty good mood as I head back to Oak Knoll, singing at the top of my lungs to Nicki Minaj's _Starships._ That's right…I can rap like…a blonde white chick from Nebraska. I get myself a salad from the grocery store on the way home and a two liter bottle of Mountain Dew. Amy and Leonard's plane doesn't leave until eight, so I'll get to see her before she leaves.

I can hear her voice through the door as I fish for my key outside 314, holding the soda bottle under my arm as I fling the door open and nearly trip over her suitcase. She's standing near the couch on the phone, pacing furiously. I've never seen Amy angry. Not like this.

"You promised this time, Sheldon!" She's saying, "After my aunt's birthday party, I thought it would be different, but yet again, you can't find one spare moment for me when given a better opportunity!" I close the door, waving at her and moving into the kitchen, setting my stuff on the table and grabbing a cup for my soda. "I don't _care_ if Nathan Fillion is going to be at Stuart's store tonight…I'm your _girlfriend!_ You were supposed to come say goodbye to me." Amy looks close to tears now, "I suppose I'd foolishly thought things were different now. Goodbye Sheldon. Enjoy your night." She hangs up her phone and leans shakily against the back of the sofa.

"Ames…" I say, abandoning my food and moving toward her. That's when she bursts into tears and I freeze for about half a second before rushing over to her and wrapping my arms around her. "Hey…hey, now…Sweetie…" Her arms lock around my middle. I carefully remove her glasses so they don't get crushed. I've _so_ been there. Men suck. And the crackpot she landed herself is no exception.

"He's never going to change…is he?" She asks tearfully, effectively breaking my heart. I sigh and smooth her hair down.

"Probably not. But I think you have to figure out if you can live with that or not…" I tell her, reaching for a Kleenex. "You have to accept the good and the bad…that's the shit part of dating."

"Penny, it's so easy for you," Amy says, wiping her eyes and moving away from me, accepting her glasses again, "You don't have to try. If Sheldon and I don't work out…I probably won't have another chance."

"That's not true!" I tell her fiercely, taking her hand. "Listen to me, Amy Farrah Fowler. You _are_ going to end up with someone _amazing._ Whether it be with Sheldon or anyone else…I don't know. But someone is going to make you happy. I promise." A knock at the door makes us both jump. I notice the clock. 6:30. Amy brushes past me and opens the door miserably.

"Hey, Amy! Raj is waiting in the car downst—" Leonard cuts off abruptly, looking at me quizzically. I shake my head. "Are you okay?"

"My boyfriend is a jerk," Amy answers tightly, "Other than that, I'm just peachy."

"Sweetie, go wash your face and cool off," I tell her, urging her toward the hall to the bathroom, before turning back to Leonard. "Sheldon ditched her for Nathan Fillion."

"But that's…" He stops himself, "You're joking…" Leonard says, rolling his eyes. "She's pretty upset, huh?"

"I've never seen her like this," I admit, feeling terrible. "I mean, Sheldon has done some pretty crappy things, but this?"

"I know. And things seemed to be going so well with them…" He sighs as Amy returns, a little more composed.

"I apologize," Amy says diplomatically, straightening her skirt, "for my outburst."

"Amy, you're boyfriend pulled a dick move…you're allowed to be pissed." I put an arm around her picking up her suitcase and handing it to Leonard. "Listen to me," I say to her, "You go and you have a great time. And don't you _dare_ text Sheldon. Make him stew in his guilt."

"Girl power?" She asks, meeting my eyes and making me chuckle. I love that Amy loves the Spice Girls.

"Girl power," I nod. Hugging her one more time. "Love you, Bestie. Call me when you guys get in, okay?" Her eyes are shining with gratitude.

"I will."

"Don't worry, Penny…I'll make sure she's okay," Leonard says, hugging me. And then, they're gone and I'm standing in mine and Amy's living room so damn angry at Sheldon that I could wring his scrawny little neck. I wait five minutes, put my salad in the fridge and grab my keys, storming out of the apartment still wearing my work polo and khakis. I don't waste a moment as I drive the few blocks to the comic book store. I walk inside, fully prepared to confront an army of _Firefly_ loving nerds and find Stuart hanging over the counter, eating a piece of bread and reading a comic book. No nerds in sight…well, except for Captain Sweatpants and some other unfortunate dude wearing suspenders. Eek.

"Hey, Stuart!" I say, walking toward the counter. He looks up, startled, as if the sight of a female in his store is an anomaly.

"P-Penny?" He says, looking around.

"Hey, where's this Nathan Fillion dude?" I ask, forgoing all pretenses and crossing my arms. "I have a bone to pick with one of his groupies."

"Um…" Stuart looks uncomfortably at his feet. "That's not until Wednesday…" He says, looking like he isn't sure if he should tell me the truth or not.

"_What?!"_ I shriek at him, feeling my Hulk-like rage beat through my veins. Stuart jumps visibly, shrinking away from the counter.

"Yeah…he's doing a graphic novel signing here on Wednesday…n-not tonight…"

"Son of a _bitch!"_ I spin on my heel and turn toward the door, giving Stuart one final glance, "Thanks, Stuart."

"You're…welcome?" His weak voice comes as I abandon The Comic Center and head back to my car. Just as I'm pulling up to the Los Robles apartments, I notice said whacko walking into the building with a bag of Thai food and quickly park, pursuing him like a hunter stalking prey. I let him get to the top of the stairs before standing at the bottom of the last flight and glaring up at him.

"You got a _lot_ of nerve, Cooper," I growl, making him yelp and drop his food, turning to face me.

"_Penny!"_ He wails, eyes wide as I advance on him.

"How could you?" I ask, grabbing the front of his shirt. "How could you _do_ that to Amy?" I smack at him and corner him against his door.

"I…" But he knows damn well he's caught.

"You _lied_ to her, Sheldon! _Why?_" I ask, feeling almost as hurt _for_ her as I would for myself.

"I don't like goodbyes," He admits helplessly, "As you recall when I had attempted to move to Bozeman, Montana, I dislike the discomfort of saying goodbye. I am uncomfortable with general displeasure of the situation, so I avoid it because I worry about making a mistake, and..."

"You mean, you're afraid you won't act correctly?" I ask, dumbfounded by his honesty. "Honey, Amy just wanted to _see_ you…she wanted a kiss goodbye. You're her _boyfriend._ It's not optional."

"Oh dear…" Sheldon sighs, stooping to pick up his dropped food. Luckily, it didn't explode.

"Come on," I sigh, taking his key and opening the door. He follows me inside, moving to the counter while I lock the door behind me. I don't bring up the scene from the day before on the second floor, and neither does he, thankfully.

"What should I do?" Sheldon asks me, quickly removing his food and retrieving a fork.

"You need to call her," I tell him bluntly. "Right now. Ten minutes ago!"

"But she's on a plane," He points out. I shrug.

"Leave her a message," I retort, "She needs to know that you're sorry. She needs to know you care. Do you?"

"Do I what?" Sheldon answers in bemusement, and I have to suppress the urge to smack his clueless face.

"Do you care? For Amy?" I bring my knees up to my chest, biting the inside of my cheek as I await his response. My loyalty is to Amy. Jealousy and general weirdness aside, I'm not making a move on her kooky ass boyfriend.

"Of course," Sheldon tells me, coming to sit beside me in his spot. "She is probably one of the few people in the world who is most like me. She is a brilliant mind."

"Is that all?" I ask. He's her boyfriend. He's supposed to say she's beautiful and funny and amazing. Because she _is!_

"What else _is_ there?" He asks, making my heart sink with disappointment for poor Amy.

"Aren't you attracted to her?" I ask, watching his eyes widen in shock. "When you two…got busy the other night…were you…?" I trail off, letting the question dangle there. He stares at me cautiously, probably wondering if this is a trick question.

"Was I…?" He continues, waiting for me to finish the question. I let out a deep breath of impatience, realizing who I'm dealing with.

"Did your downstairs react?" I ask. Blank stare. "Did you get…_aroused?"_ I hiss, torn between anger and laughter.

"_Oh…"_ Sheldon replies, looking down at his uneaten Mee Krob. "While, I enjoyed being close with Amy and found the experience to be quite…pleasant…I cannot say that I was aroused at all." He purses his lips contemplatively. "Of course, we _were_ interrupted by your return and following drug induced episode, so I cannot accurately say whether or not—"

"Yeah. Got it," I nod, grabbing his cell phone off of the coffee table and thrusting it into his hands. "_Call_ Amy." Nodding, he dials the phone, turning to me.

"What do I say?" He whispers. I lean forward.

"Tell her…what you told me. You didn't want to have to say goodbye to her…that you're sorry for hurting her feelings and to call you when she gets settled at the hotel." He does exactly as he's told, to his credit. And every word he says to her feels like a weird little jab in my chest. Because, even though I _want_ him to fix his fight with Amy, it's still killing me to hear it.

Now I _know_ I'm in trouble.

Why is this happening? I've gotten by just fine for the past twenty-six years without having a crush on someone I couldn't have. Someone I never wanted to want. Someone who doesn't want _me._ Stop it, Penny.

"Satisfactory?" He asks, setting the phone aside and taking a bite of his food. I only nod, hugging my knees to my chest. When did I turn into this whiny, teen drama character? I used to be tough. In the course of two days, I've been reduced to an angsty _Twilight_ heroine. I could have a guy who is exactly right for me, who cares about me…and what do I do? I develop a thing for the one who is all _kinds_ of wrong for me.

Isn't he?

Sheldon and I have nothing in common…except for _Soft Kitty. _Except for the fact that we're both from the country. Except for the fact that we both have tempers and bicker like crazy. Except for the fact that we understand each other. Except for the fact that we would do anything for each other.

When did Sheldon become so important to me?

And why didn't I realize it before? But I already know…I was trying _so_ hard to make it work with Leonard, that I never realized what I'd been looking for had been right in front of me all along. I just didn't know…I never knew it was Sheldon I wanted, because it was Leonard I'd _needed_ at the time. I wasn't ready for him. (I don't think anyone could ever be _ready_ for Sheldon Cooper.)

Yeah. I'm in trouble.

I say goodbye to Sheldon around eleven-thirty and head home, staring forlornly at 4B once more until I tear myself away and leave. I flop onto the couch in 314 and pull out my salad, flipping through the channels, settling for reruns of _Dance Moms. _I turn the T.V. off around midnight, heading to bed to repeat work all over again the next day.

When I wake up the next morning, I realize that I haven't heard from Amy yet. She'd promised to call me when she arrived in New Jersey. Of course, it had been a six hour flight and probably well after midnight when they'd landed, so I am not too worried.

Adam is already at work when I get there at ten to ten, looking a little flustered. I take pity on him.

"What's wrong, Sweetie?" I ask, pulling a stack of napkins out of the cupboard. He shakes his head.

"One of the dumbass waitresses burnt her hand on the grill and Liz is freaking out about liability and shit. We're going to be short a waitress," He sighs, making me smile a little. He's so darn cute.

"Adam, _I _was a waitress for years…I could fill in. I mean, the day shift is pretty dead bar wise anyway," I shrug, "Would that be okay for you?" His eyes light up.

"Really? You would do that?" He asks and I nod.

"Definitely," I pat his hand. "Lemme go talk to Liz." I find my boss hanging out near the dumpster, smoking a cigarette furiously and staring at the ground. "Um, Liz?" She looks up.

"Oh, Penny…what is it?"

"I just wanted to tell you, I was a waitress for like, eight years. If you need me to fill in—"

"Oh, thank you _Jesus!"_ She cries, tossing the cigarette aside and throwing her arms around me. "Kid, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Are you kidding?" I laugh, "I got fired from the freaking _Cheesecake Factory, _so I'm grateful for the opportunity!"

"Ugh, I hate that place," Liz grumbles, walking back into the building with me, "Manager's a weaselly little shit. I know him…he used to be married to my sister."

"Ew!" I exclaim, giggling despite myself, "What was she _thinking?"_

"I asked her the same thing…" Liz quips, handing me an apron and a pad of paper. "Thanks again, Penny. I owe you, like hugely." What she doesn't know is, the more hours I get, the better. Not only do I need the money…I could use the distraction.

After what I consider a fairly easy day, I head home with a pocket full of tips and put half of it into an envelope that I immediate stick under my mattress. (I don't have a Green Lantern with a hollowed out ass.) I still haven't heard from Amy, so I call her after ordering myself a pizza. She finally answers on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ames!" I say brightly, "I was worried!"

"Oh, Penny!" She exclaims as if she's just remembering I exist. She sounds a little tired. That's when I realize it's almost ten there.

"Were you sleeping?" I ask.

"No…no," She insists, perking up immediately, "I was just…going over some of Dr. Hofstadter's notes and comparing them with my own."

"Oh!" I pause awkwardly, "Well that sounds…fun… did you and Sheldon work things out?" I hear her sigh quietly.

"Yes, I received his message this morning. My cell phone was temporarily out of order. The battery died," She explains, pausing again. "Listen, Bestie…I need to let you go. I promise to call you tomorrow."

"Okay…" I say, getting the feeling Amy is still upset by her shortness with me. "Have fun."

"I will," She assures me, "Goodbye." And before I can respond, she's hung up. Weird. A knock at the door, makes me forget my discomfort as I throw the door open and find Bernadette standing there, looking absolutely pissed as she walks past me without so much as a hello.

"Hey, Sweetie…" I trail after her. Why is everything falling apart _now?_

"I can't _take_ it anymore!" She screeches, stomping into the kitchen and throwing the fridge open. "Don't you have any wine?"

"No…" I tell her carefully, "I quit drinking."

"You _what?"_ Bernadette cries, looking desperately through the fridge. "Oh, because of Saturday?"

"Yeah," I say, sitting at the kitchen table as she settles for a bottle of water and slumps into the opposite chair. "Talk to me."

"I got into a fight with Mrs. Wolowitz. I was offered a job at a Pharmaceutical company in New York," She explains.

"Oh! That's awesome!" I nod enthusiastically. Bernadette doesn't smile.

"You would think…but she's _forbidden _me from taking it, saying that I planned all along to steal her little boy out from under her! She actually thinks I'm doing this on purpose to come between her and Howard. And he's not even home yet! They've extended his trip. So, I have no support at home and I am worried that he will take her side!" Her eyes narrow, "I love Howard very much, Penny…but I can't handle his mother any more. She and I used to get along so well…"

"Yeah, well Howard and his mom have a relationship that even Oedipus would call fucked up," I reply dryly, rolling my eyes.

"Oh _God…"_ Bernadette buries her face in her hands. "Penny, if this doesn't get fixed…I don't know if I can stay in that house until she dies."

"Yeah, at the rate she's going, you guys'll have to go all _Gilbert Grape _and burn the house down with her in it," I grin, taking a drink of my own bottle of water.

"Penny!" Bernadette wails, shaking her head and touching her throat. "I just…it's so hard without him there. I miss him so _much._ I'm a newlywed and I can't even enjoy it because he's in _space_. He's not even on this _planet…"_

Whoa…this calls for an emergency intervention. Calmly, I rise and head over to the pantry, praying Amy has some kind of alcohol in this apartment. Luckily, I find a bottle of white wine stashed in the bottom drawer of the fridge.

Thank you, Amy, for developing some of my bad habits…

I pour Bernadette a glass of wine and settle back into my seat. She accepts it greedily, taking a long sip.

"I just feel like _I'm_ the one doing all the compromising, you know?" She sighs, looking forlornly into the light liquid.

"Sweetie," I say tiredly, kind of wishing I could just take a hot bath and go to bed, "You knew what you were getting into when you married Howard. You know I'm always going to be on your side, but this is between you and Howard. You need to work it out with him. I wish I could help, but look at me…I've failed in every relationship I've ever had and I make terrible decisions. I'm not one to come to for advice. I can't even figure out what _I_ want in life!" Meaning, I'm scamming on Dr. Egomanic Cooper. Will this madness never _end?!_

I swear this crap should be on a T.V. show or something. We could make millions. I mean, if Snooki can be famous by being disgusting, then why can't I? I'm almost positive I'm not as gross as she is.

Bernadette decides to go stay the night at her parents' house, leaving me (finally) alone. Exhausted, I shut off the T.V. and head to take a bath with the latest issue of the newspaper. It's a habit of mine, scanning the classifieds for auditions. I never find anything, but it's still a compulsion I have. An absent, familiar thing to take my mind off of…_everything._

_Equity Auditions for Principal Roles in Les Miserables. _Yeah…no. Not a singer. I found that out the hard way when I watched myself in _RENT._ Lily white blonde chick playing a Spanish heroin addict. Great choice.

_Featured Male Role needed for Glee. Ages 18-30. _ I don't have the plumbing.

_Open call for Sci-Fi show. Looking for a female lead. Ages 25-35. Preferably blonde. _

I laugh mirthlessly, rolling my eyes and tossing the paper aside. I've fallen into that trap before. I can't begin to count how many auditions I've gone to where they're looking for a blonde between the ages of 18-35. Too Midwest. Too tall. Too tan (_REALLY?)_. Too _modern _looking. I've heard it all. What happened to plain old ugly and pretty? Talented and not talented?

I've all but given up on acting. It's just not going to happen for me. I know that. I think I'm okay with it. Maybe I'm meant for bigger things…maybe not. Right now, I just want to be happy. And I think this whole Sheldon thing is just that…my need to find what I want. Maybe I'm just deluding myself and I should go home to Nebraska and put some distance between us. But I can't. I couldn't leave him…_them_…if I tried. They're my family. All of them. Even Howard and all of his creepy mother loving weirdness.

When I get out of the bath, I pull on my robe, throw my hair back and head into my room, turning on the T.V. to find _Ghost _on TBS. I love this movie. Vintage Swayze at his best. So sexy. (We miss you, Patrick!) It's right at the end when Molly and Oda Mae are saying goodbye to him.

"_Sam?" _

"_Molly?" _

"_I can hear you." _

Then that light comes in and she can see him and I'm a goner. Makes me cry every _damn_ time.

"_I love you, Molly. I've always loved you."_

"_Ditto."_

See? This is what love is supposed to be. No, I don't mean I hope the guy I love gets shot, dies and hangs out as a ghost. I mean, it's supposed to be a sure thing. You should just _know…_and it should feel right. Because when you find the right person, everything is just supposed to click. It's not easy…how could it be? I just hope one day…I love someone as much as Sam loved Molly.

"_It's amazing, Molly…the love inside…you take it with you."_

God, I hope so.


	7. The Devil Made Me Do It

**Just want to say that I am grateful for ALL of you readers. Anyway...back to the story. It's going to take a turn here, but I promise, it will make sense later. I hope. Or I'm just crazy. **

**DG  
**

* * *

Wednesday is a little easier than the day before. Mostly, because I get to actually do the job I was hired for. And it's nice, because I'm actually pretty good at it. I don't hate working here yet, so I'm going to assume that's a good thing and just go with it. People are friendly, customers are decent tippers and Adam is a trip. Everything is great. The only problem? It's about ninety degrees outside and feels like a sauna. Even though it's cloudy, the air is so thick that it seems to linger on your skin. My dad would say, "It's fixin' to storm."

I love storms. I've always found thunderstorms to be soothing. When I was a kid, my grandmother and I would sit on her covered porch and watch them. She used to tell me that when things weren't going well, God would make it storm to set everything right with the world again. And, it was weird, but when they were over, I always felt better even though I knew that wasn't the way things worked. My Gran died when I was sixteen, but not a day passes that I don't think of her. She was my best friend.

The wind is whipping pretty hard when my shift ends, but it isn't raining, so I decide it's probably a good idea to get home before it starts. Judging by the heavy black clouds darkening the horizon, it's going to be a pretty big one. I just get inside the apartment building when I hear the first big clap of thunder. I can't deny that I'm kind of thrilled, because I have the apartment to myself and I don't have to work tomorrow. Any other night like this, I would have cracked open a bottle of wine, thrown a chick flick in the DVD player and just enjoyed myself. But I'm still kind of broke and after last Saturday, hot peppermint tea sounds great.

After changing into my pajamas, I head straight for the kitchen and open the pantry, silently thanking Amy for stocking the cupboard this past weekend. Quirky she may be, but dumb she ain't. I make myself a bowl of Ramen and a cup of tea, before settling onto the couch and let out a sigh of contentment. _Ghost Hunters_ is on SyFy, which only adds to my excitement (I love that show).

That's when my phone rings.

_**Darcy**_

Taking a breath, I pick it up.

"Hey, Darce," I say, twirling the noodles onto my fork and attempting to eat them one handed.

"I met a guy," She tells me, never bothering to make small talk. But, it perks me up, since the poor thing probably hasn't had sex since my nephew Cam was conceived four years ago.

"Oh yeah?" I ask, choking a little on a stray noodle that went down the wrong pipe.

"I joined ," She goes on, "And I met this guy. From out where you live."

"Oh, wow!" I exclaim, paying a little more attention to the noodles than to what my sister is actually saying. (She spent her entire life ignoring me, so I get to return the favor sometimes.) "Is he cute?"

"Yeah," Darcy replies, "In an odd, helpless kind of way. He's kind of clueless, but we've been talking for a few weeks now, and I really kind of like him. But anyway, I'm thinkin' about coming out and going on a date with him."

"Oh really?" I ask, frowning as a noodle slops back into my bowl and off my fork, making me pout. Noodles are tricky little bastards. They never behave the way you want them to.

"Well, it's not like I have anything goin' for me here anymore," Darcy continues, "Brian's going to college this year, Cam doesn't start pre-school for a year. It's the perfect time. I'm a hairdresser. I can find a job anywhere."

"It's a big move."

"_You_ did it," She points out, making me grin.

"I didn't do it _well…_" I remind her, finally getting a bite down. It's somewhat underwhelming. I want pizza. Pizza Night is tomorrow night (you know, because our lives revolve around the schedule as dictated by his lordship, the Duke of Whackadoodle). Boo.

"Well, I'm gonna come out anyway and check it out. I like this guy. He seems like the type who will actually, you know, look at _me_ once in a while and not some bimbo from Applebee's. He even has his own business!"

"Uh huh…" I nod blankly, watching as Grant and Jay catch an E.V.P. (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) on _Ghost Hunters._ It's a pretty good one too! "So what's his name?"

"Oh, um, Stuart. Stuart Bloom," She answers. That's when I choke on my Ramen. Violently. My sister just revealed that she met _Stuart_, poor, pathetic _Stuart_ on and that she wants to come to California to _meet_ him. _Now_ I'm listening.

"Stuart Bloom?!" I cry, setting my soggy noodles aside and trying to remember what it's like to breathe out of my lungs.

"You know him?!" She asks excitedly, as I fan myself desperately, trying to catch my breath still.

"_Stuart_ Bloom," I reaffirm, "Owns a comic book store. Late thirties, curly hair, kind of a sad looking face?"

"Yeah, that's _him!"_ Darcy agrees excitedly, "That's the guy."

The guy. Everyone has 'the guy.' Except me. My 'the guy' ended up not being 'the guy' and now 'the guy' I want is with my _best_ friend. I would _love _a glass of wine right now, but even the thought of alcohol makes my stomach churn at the memory of last Saturday.

"Yeah, I know him," I finally answer as lightning flashes and lights up the room, "The guys spend half their life in his store. He's the one who helped me pick out Brian's birthday present a few years ago. Remember?"

"Oh yeah!" She laughs, "That's _weird!"_ Oh, Darce, you have _no _idea...I've been on _dates_ with Stuart. But I sure as hell ain't telling my poor, deprived sister that. This is the first guy she's been interested in since her douchebag ex started boinking high schoolers.

Idiot.

My sister is pretty damn good looking. She's blonde and a little less broad than I am. And, she's had two kids and still has a body like a model. It's not fair. I bet when I have kids, I end up looking like Mrs. Wolowitz…with less facial hair. At least Stuart will treat her well…if he manages not to terrify her away with his self-deprecation.

"Well, Darce, I'm happy for—"

_Knock, knock, knock. _

"Penny." Oh balls. I was _so_ close to having a nice relaxing night without crazy.

_Knock, knock, knock. _

"Darcy, I gotta go," I mutter, hanging up the phone before she can protest and get up off the couch.

"Penny." Standing in front of the door, I roll my eyes and wait for inevitable number three.

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny." And there it is. I open the door, and stare up at a completely soaked to the bone Dr. Whackadoodle. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, his Flash T-Shirt is dark and his jacket looks like it's doing more damage than good.

"Jesus!" I groan, grabbing him by the sleeve and dragging him into the apartment, before locking the door and heading for the linen closet to grab a towel. "What the hell _happened_ to you?"

"Well," He says, taking the towel from me, "I still have not spoken to Amy Farrah Fowler, as she has not returned any of my phone calls. Distressed, I went to The Comic Center to have Nathan Fillion sign my _Firefly_ Blu-Ray case." His face relaxes slightly for a moment, "It was _magical,_ Penny. Then, I returned home with Indian food, as Raj is working late with Dr. Sigrid Johansson this evening with every intention of enjoying an evening of _Firefly_ and Kadhai Paneer. However, I was disappointed to realize that I had, once again, left my keys in the bowl. I called the landlord, but he was unavailable. I then attempted to call you, but there was no answer." I can't help it. I crack up, snorting _very_ attractively as I try to find something for him to wear. Sure enough, there _is_ an unheard voicemail on my phone which I am sure is just _delightful!_

"Um," I mutter, moving into my bedroom and digging through my drawers to find him the sweats I stole from Tim when I left Nebraska. Tim's only maybe an inch shorter than Shelly Bean, so they should fit fine…if I can find them. "Okay, Sweetie, why don't you take off those wet clothes? I have some sweats that should—"

"I can't wear your clothes, Penny!" He scoffs, looking beyond horrified at the thought.

"Oh, they're not mine, they were my brother's," I answer quickly, opening a plastic container under my bed with all of my winter pajamas. Ha! There they are. Go Cornhuskers!

"I can't wear your _brother's _clothes!" Sheldon squeals, sounding like a thirteen year old girl hopped up on Pixie Stix. I half expect to look up and see pigtails sprouting from his head. The thought makes me snicker.

"Fine, go naked!" I offer, shrugging. "See if I care!" I watch his blue eyes widen in horrified realization as he reluctantly takes the sweats from me. "They're clean," I add, patting him roughly on the shoulder and shutting my bedroom door so Dr. Modesty can change without me ogling him. That's when it hits me like a ton a bricks. We're completely alone. I'm stuck with him for the night. And he's naked behind that damned door. I mean, I've seen Sheldon in his little briefs numerous times, but I've never really _looked!_ Or cared, for that matter.

But now…

Why? Why is this happening to me? I never wanted this. I didn't ask for this. Quite frankly, I'm starting to wish I had just stayed with Leonard, completely oblivious and deluding myself into believing that I was doing the right thing. I wish, for a fraction of a second, that the pregnancy test had been positive, if only for the reason that I would be preoccupied with something other than Sheldon "Praying Mantis" Cooper. I lean against the door, resting my head against the wood as I force myself to think of poor Amy, who is sitting unsuspecting in a hotel room in New Jersey right now, probably trying to figure out how to forgive Sheldon for hurting her earlier in the week while her roommate and 'bestie' is holed up with her man, picturing how he looks with no clothes on.

I'm going to Hell.

I don't even realize that I'm still leaning against the door when it opens and I fall into my bedroom, crumpling at Sheldon's feet while he glares down at me, completely uncomfortably in gray sweats. But it's such an unfamiliar sight; it makes me laugh as I pull myself back to my feet.

"Lookin' hot, Shelly!" I grin, walking back out into the living room ahead of him as a particularly loud clap of thunder shakes the apartment and I notice Sheldon wince, leaning against the back of the couch. "You want some popcorn?" I ask, moving toward the cupboards and looking at him again. He's staring at the window with wide eyes and it starts to make sense. Sheldon is afraid of thunderstorms. Of _course_ he is. He's a giant six year old. He has pajamas for each day. He has a sick song. He collects toys. Why not add a fear of thunder?

"I would not be opposed to popcorn," He concedes, looking longingly at his abandoned Indian food sitting on the coffee table. "My appetite has been severely affected anyway." With a sigh of defeat, he crosses and puts the food into the refrigerator as I pour each of us a cup of Mountain Dew.

"Cool," I hand him his soda and head to the pantry, removing an instant bag of kettle corn, throwing it in the microwave. "So, no word from Amy, huh?"

"None. It's almost as if she's ignoring me," He answers, sounding bemused. Ya think?

"I think what it boils down to, Moon-Pie—"

"Penny, do _not_ call me Moon-Pie," He pleads tiredly, "That right is only reserved for my MeeMaw."

"Fine," I grumble, "_Sheldon_, what it boils down to is you need to start putting Amy first. You need to be spontaneous. Send her flowers. Write her nice notes…ones that don't talk about physics or brains. Tell her she's _beautiful_ for goodness sake!"

"But _why?"_ Sheldon asks indignantly, "What good does it do? Why shouldn't we talk about things that are useful and relevant as opposed to things that are pointless and trivial?"

"Because that's not how girls work!" I cry, frustrated with him. "We _need_ to be told we're beautiful! We need to be held and kissed and loved…"

"You don't," Sheldon insists, staring at me, "Even though you and Leonard were very vocal in your coital relations, you hardly ever sat together, or held hands during your recent return to a carnal relationship."

"Leonard and I didn't work, because _we_ don't work together," I tell him, rubbing my temples. "And Leonard was _too_ nice, to the point of, well, _smothering_ me."

"He always has been," Sheldon nods, "It stems from his Oedipal need for affection from his mother and the fact that he feels inferior as a man because of it."

"Yeah…that."

"But, I still maintain that, while her methods are a bit harsh, Dr. Hofstadter is a brilliant neuroscientist," Sheldon continues, "Amy Farrah Fowler is very similar in that regard. In fact, Amy is, in some ways, even more of a brilliant mind, because she is a warmer sort of person. Her mind is truly spectacular."

"Yes," I agree, "But Sheldon, there has to be more to it than that. You can't tell a girl, 'your mind is gorgeous.'"

"I disagree," Sheldon retorts, "In my opinion, complimenting a woman's mind is the highest sort of praise one can get. You obviously don't know what that is like, but I can assure you—"

"Okay, let's get something straight here, _Tex,"_ I growl, forgetting the damned popcorn and grabbing the front of his sweatshirt, cornering him against the back of the couch and trapping him there, "While I am not a _super-genius_ like you guys or Amy, I am not _stupid!_ And if you think that, well, you can kiss my perfectly tanned ass!" I glare up at him. "Maybe I didn't graduate from _community college_ and I work in a fucking restaurant, but I _am_ smart!"

"Of course you're smart," Sheldon replies shakily, trying to pry my fingers off of his shirt, "Who said you weren't? I was simply implying that the sorts of men you normally date are not the type to compliment a girl on their intelligence. In fact Penny, can you honestly say that you've ever been complimented by one of your many—" I clear my throat sternly at him and he brings his hand up to cover his neck, "—suitors complimented you on anything other than your looks? Leonard included." He shakes his head, "It's the reason I always saw that the two of you couldn't work. Leonard wanted you so desperately, because you _are_ beautiful, and he needed to have that validation that _he _was good enough to attract a woman who looked like you. But, you need more than someone who is with you for shallow purposes. You, like me, want someone who sees you for more than what you are."

Wait, what? Holy shitballs. Did this just happen? Sheldon not only said something insightful, he hit the nail on the head. I need someone who sees beyond the blonde. I'm sick of being just _hot._ There is _more_ to me than just a great ass. Maybe that's what this is. Sheldon is the only person in the world who hasn't made a comment about how _hot_ I am. We've never kissed. He's the only one of the four guys I _haven't_ kissed (okay Howard tried kissing _me_ and I punched him in the face, but I'm totally counting it.) And then there's the other fact…

"You think I'm beautiful?" Is all I can manage to say, stepping away from him and letting go of him quickly. He gives me a disapproving look.

"You know you are, so why should you need my opinion to validate it?" He asks, moodily.

"I don't," I tell him earnestly, "But that's what I'm trying to _tell_ you, Sheldon. Even though I know I'm attractive…well, at least I am to most guys, it's still nice to _hear_ it from people I care about. It's the same way with Amy. Maybe more so, because she _wants_ to feel pretty. You're the first boyfriend she's ever had. Probably the first guy who's ever even shown an interest, from the way she talks…"

"Well, it's hardly my fault that most men are exceedingly oblivious," Sheldon snips, "And I _do_ find Amy to be an extremely appealing woman."

"But…?"

"But what?" Sheldon asks, looking puzzled again and making me suppress the urge to slap him.

"You just…ended that sentence like you were going somewhere else with it," I tell him, and notice him open his mouth to speak again.

That's when I hear a loud buzzing noise outside and, out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash and turn to look…just as the power goes out, leaving us standing in pitch black.

"Penny…" I hear his terrified voice and heavy breathing.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark, Moon-Pie," I chuckle, feeling my way toward the cupboard where Amy put my candles when I moved in.

"No, not the dark…" He answers tremulously, making me laugh a little as I find the candles and the candle lighter, nearly tripping over a chair on the way back to the living room.

"Where are you?" I ask, squinting in the thick darkness, trying to find his form.

"I'm on the sofa," He replies, and I feel around until my hand settles right over the front of his face. "_Penny…"_ He whines, his voice muffled beneath my palm. I crouch in front of the coffee table and set the large candles down, feeling for the wick and using the light from my cell phone to see as I ignite it. Thunder violently shakes the room again as rain pelts the window. I'm suddenly glad I'm not alone. I mean, I'm definitely a fan of storms. But sitting in the dark with no power all night long by myself, doesn't quite sound like my ideal Wednesday night. I light the rest of the candles and climb up to sit beside Sheldon on the right side of the sofa. Just like always.

"Sheldon," I finally say, returning to my former purpose, "Are you in love with Amy?"

"Why do you ask?" His response is quick, panicked almost.

"It's just…you guys have known each other a little over two years now, and you've been dating for over six months. You guys are finally starting to do…stuff…" I go on, wincing, "I mean, does she make you...um, do you get…?"

"You're asking if I get sexually aroused…aren't you?"

"Uh—" I have _no_ idea how to respond to this, so I just stare at his dimly lit face.

"The answer is yes, of course, I have been sexually aroused, much to my chagrin at times. However, though Amy and I get along, I cannot say that we have reached a point yet, where I would be in a position to be…_that._"

"But you have _been_ aroused you said," I remind him, raising an eyebrow.

"Several times," He answers candidly, looking unashamed, "I am a thirty-two year old man, Penny. Despite my fervent wish that it weren't so sometimes, I cannot change the fact that my body reacts to things that my mind does not want it to."

"Such as?" I prod, fascinated and terrified and hopeful all at once. He doesn't answer, instead pursing his lips shut and looking away from me. And I wonder, for a brief moment, if it's because he doesn't want me to know. Maybe he has some weird kinky fetish, like that bizarre anime porn that nerds seem to love so much with the freaky ass tentacles. Maybe it's obese women. Maybe it's clowns riding unicycles. I don't know. I really don't. And he doesn't seem to want to tell me, so I give up. "The guys always thought you were asexual," I say, unsure of why. Sheldon turns to look at me with a furrowed brow and it's a little unnerving.

"That's absurd," He says bitingly, making me grin.

"Well, you are a little oblivious to the whole…_female_ thing…" I point out, "Remember Ramona?"

"Penny, I have an eidetic memory," He quickly returns, "I remember the clothing I wore the first day of toddler Bible school. Of course I _remember_ Ramona."

"Well, do you seem to recall that she was totally trying to get with you?"

"_Get_ with me?" He scoffs, "She never _left_ my apartment for two weeks!"

"I mean," I gesture with my hands helplessly, "_You _know…in the naked way."

"You mean coitus," He suggests, making me roll my eyes.

"I mean _sex," _I snap, wondering why I'm even continuing this idiotic attempt at an adult conversation with Dr. Cooper.

"That's what I said," He sounds confused again, looking at me as if _I'm_ the one with the mental problems.

"No," I correct, "_You _said coitus. That makes it sound boring and technical. Sex is different. Sex is something two people share that should be special. It should be intimate."

"And have all of _your_ sexual experiences been intimate and _special_ as you categorize it?" Sheldon inquires, making me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from biting out a really angry remark.

"Oh, please," I counter acidly, "I am not ashamed of enjoying sex! You should try it some time."

"And what makes you so sure I haven't?" Sheldon fires back at me, making my mouth fall open.

"What…?" I whisper, watching him with huge eyes, I'm sure. "But you've never—"

"How could you possibly know that, Penny?" He interrogates, eyes blazing, "Perhaps you should take into consideration that, as offended as you were when I suggested that you had been with over thirty men sexually, I could be just _as_ offended by your assumption that I have been with no one."

"But…" Nope. I got nothing. I'm dumbfounded. Did he just admit that he's done the nasty before? Or is he playing mind games? "You're bluffing," I challenge, glowering at him in irritation, waiting for the tell-tale 'Bazinga'.

"You really want to know?" He asks, looking completely affronted and a little murderous. He almost looks like…a guy. "You want to know what my body reacts to? For the past five _years,_ I have been accosted by your love of short shorts, sweatpants with the words 'Juicy' emblazoned across the bottom, tight form fitting dresses, but it isn't any of those things that have caused my discomfort. It's my sick fascination with your _hair._ I find myself yearning to touch it when you wear it down," He begins and I shake my head.

"My _hair?_" I ask, blinking at him in mild confusion. My stomach feels like someone punched me in the gut. Kind of like the time I watched him kiss Amy, but different.

"And your eyes are such a beguiling shade of opalescent green, so I can scarcely concentrate when you look at me. And then, there is the matter of your scent."

"My _scent?"_ I reply, completely unable to form a real response.

"It's completely distracting!" Sheldon cries, as if I've somehow done this on purpose. "It's engulfing and I dislike it, because I can't concentrate!"

"What are you _saying?_" I demand, forgetting my fear and giving in to irritation.

"My goodness, Penny, I thought I was clear," He meets my eyes, almost shyly. That's pretty much when I stop breathing.

"_Me?"_ I breathe, feeling my pulse increase to hyper speed. "You're saying you were attracted to me?" He shakes his head and my heart begins slamming against my ribs violently and my teeth almost begin to chatter because I am so nervous and yet, somewhat thrilled by what he's revealing.

"No, Penny…I'm saying I _am_ attracted to you. I always have been, and frankly, it's an inconvenience."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I demand, annoyed now. Sheldon gives me a skeptical look.

"When? Between the constant stream of boyfriends you had when you first moved in? When you dated Leonard? After I met Amy? What good would it have done?"

"Because I like you too, you big, oblivious _jerk!"_ I blurt, before clapping my hands over my mouth in horror. Sheldon looks like I've hit him over the head with a frying pan. "I think I have for a while now. And now it's too late!"

"For what?" He asks, looking like he really does have no idea what we're talking about.

"For _us,"_ I explain, probably sounding like those desperate chicks on _The Bachelor._ "You have Amy and I—"

"Yes, Amy who won't return my telephone calls," Sheldon retorts bitterly. I stare miserably at the candles flickering in front of us as lightning fills the room and is followed by another hard clap of thunder. A moment later, I feel Sheldon's hand grip mine suddenly. We both fall silent for a few moments, and I stare at our clasped hands with unblinking eyes. This night has entered a _whole_ new dimension of crazy. When I look back up, Sheldon is staring at me with his head tilted, as if he's analyzing me. I can't tell what he's thinking…who the hell ever can? But, before I can open my mouth to say anything, Sheldon leans forward and takes my face into his hands, pressing his lips soundly to mine. My cry of shock is muffled in his mouth as I feebly attempt to push him away searching his eyes desperately.

"Sheldon, what're you—"

"Saying something," He murmurs, before covering my mouth with his again. Oh, screw it! I'll worry about this all later. Feeling brave, I wait for him to part his lips and gently seek his tongue out with mine, tasting the sweet flavor of Mountain Dew on him. Feverishly, I pull up the hem of his sweatshirt, baring his upper body and dragging it over his head. For the first time in five years, I really look at him and notice that he's put on a little weight over the past year. He's slightly broader than before. It's kind of nice. Following suit, he pulls my tank top over my head and lays it carefully over the back of the couch, while I settle onto my back, lying beneath him. Placing my hands on his chest, I stop him when he comes back to kiss me again. He looks down at my naked chest, tentatively cupping one breast in his hand and running the tip of his index finger over the peak as lightning fills the room again.

Both of us quickly remove our pants as thunder cracks seemingly just outside the window as his hand ventures downward and finds my lower body, touching the flesh there tentatively, making me cry out. Sitting up, I guide him down onto his back beneath me and climb astride his hips, leaning over him to kiss him again, feeling the tips of my breasts against the warmth of his newly broad chest. The cool metal of his watch brushes my side and makes me shiver as I whimper into his mouth and feel his other hand move down the slope of my back and over my bottom, tightening over the pliant flesh there and grinding me instinctually against himself. I can feel him between my legs, twitching under each movement of my hips as I abandon his lips and run my lips over his neck while the hand not on my bottom twines into my long hair, holding it lovingly.

"Penny…" He groans, before I press a kiss to his lips again. Before I can think, I'm beneath him again and he's pressing into me, letting out a long, ragged sigh as he does. My head falls back against the throw pillow and a long cry leaves my lips as I clutch Sheldon's shoulders.

"Sheldon!" I cry, but it comes out as a hitched breath. It doesn't take long, since I'm so wound up already, for me to feel the familiar clenching in my belly as I begin to come. His eyes are closed and his lips hanging slightly open, before his face contorts and I can feel his entire body start to tremble with the exertion and I can feel him spilling inside me a moment later, convulsing within my body as he chants my name into the skin of my throat, lowering to lay his head on my breasts. We lie there silently for a few moments, neither of us willing to speak about what just happened.

It wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this…even though it was both amazing and surprising, it should have happened under better circumstances. Sheldon has barely done more than kiss, and now…I close my eyes as I try to suppress the panic. I try to calm myself by absently running my hands through his short, dark hair while he lies with his cheek on my chest and I can feel the pleasant scratchiness of his night bear, which is strangely comforting, because it makes me feel more like he's human. I'm just regaining control over my breath when I hear the sound of Sheldon's phone going off on the coffee table and glance over at it.

_Amy._

Our eyes meet in slow realization of the consequences of whatever the hell just happened. And I swallow, coming off of my satiation and bite my lower lip.

What have we done?


	8. So, THAT happened

**Let's see...do I have an excuse? Nope. I suck. Things are about to get interesting. Thanks for bearing with me!**

* * *

Okay. Okay, think. _Think_, Penny! Damn it. How could I let this happen? I'm not exactly sure what _did_ happen, but I'm pretty sure some shit just went down. How did this happen? I mean, you meet a guy and his kooky ass best friend, you date after two years of being friends and then five years later, you find yourself in the middle of a blackout, naked on your couch beneath said kooky best friend.

Crap on every cracker on the planet. Balls.

So, while Shelly and I stare at each other in equal horror, his phone continues to wail the theme song to the T.V. show _Batman._ I wish I was making that up. Finally, I figure out how to function and shove him unceremoniously off of me, grabbing a throw pillow to hide my exposed fun bags as he collapses into a pile of long limbs, fumbling for his phone.

"Sheldon C-Cooper speaking," He stammers into the phone, giving me a vicious glare from his position on the floor. Probably because I'm the reason he's covered in bodily fluids that aren't his own.

Ugh, I know…sorry. T.M.I.

"Hello, Amy," He practically whispers, looking desperately to me for help. Yes, Sheldon, by all means, ask _my_ advice. I put my hands up in defeat and weakly grab my shirt, feeling the sudden urge to crawl into a corner and die. Thank _goodness_ for birth control pills…and the fact that my period just ended. If I ended up with a Cooper in my belly, I think I may have to throw myself into shark infested waters. Or at least flee the country for a while.

But here's the fun fact. I just scrumped my _best _friend's boyfriend. The boyfriend that she waited _two_ years to date. Oh yeah, and by the way, he may or may not have been a virgin. (We never did confirm.)

"For three days?" He says skeptically, sounding calmer than I feel. "I have been trying to reach you via text message and email as well. Was your laptop dead as well? After our argument, I could only deduce that you were ignoring me, and per Section Twelve D of the Relationship Agreement, we must resolve all fights immediately and thoroughly."

I don't stick around to listen to the rest of their conversation. Grabbing my discarded clothing, I run into my bedroom and shut the door behind me, dragging on a robe and falling face down into the bed. I don't last a minute, before I feel my stomach clench and I'm running back out into the hallway, across into the bathroom, where I'm heaving up my Ramen violently. When it subsides, I lie down on the cool tile floor and finally let my stinging eyes overflow, wrenching with awful, painful sobs.

This is it. This is rock bottom. How can I ever face Amy again? Or, Leonard? Oh, God…_Leonard._ He would die if he found out this happened. Those big, puppy eyes of his full of hurt…I couldn't handle it. What would my grandmother say?

_You've done a bad thing, Penelope. But it doesn't make you a bad person._

She always tried to see the good. I can't see any here. Amy will be devastated. I'm going to lose them all. All of them. Even Sheldon. They'll forgive him. He's the innocent one here, the one with no experienced. The one whose virtue I just took.

_He's a grown man, Penny._

But he's not. He may be thirty-two years old, but he is not a man. He's a little boy trapped in a man's body. He's like that Benjamin Button guy. The older he gets, the younger he gets. He was an adult as a kid and now he's a kid as an adult.

_Knock, knock, knock. _

"Penny." Oh boy.

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Penny." I sigh, dragging myself up and waiting for number three.

_Knock, knock, knock. _

"Penny."

I open the door and just look up at him, probably glistening with sweat and smeared mascara. His face is a mirrored mask of guilt and confusion as he stands awkwardly, wearing my brother's sweats and holding his phone.

"That was Amy Farrah Fowler," He tells me, biting his lower lip and looking at his feet, unable to make eye contact.

"I know," I nod, washing my hands and face quickly, before rinsing with Listerine.

"I didn't tell her what transpired between us," He adds, glancing up at me for a moment and looking away quickly when I meet his eyes. I don't like this. This is like when we first met and he couldn't handle social situations. I've ruined him, set him back. I feel like a rapist.

"Good call," I say, not knowing what else to do.

"Penny," He says quietly, and I look up at him in the darkness, seeing his eyes dark with what I'm assuming is fear and guilt.

"Yeah?"

"I need to use the shower," He informs me, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. Oh crap, of course. He'll want to clean himself with fire if necessary. I probably shouldn't tell him about the giant bottle of Lysol in the linen closet, because that baby would be gone in a hot second.

"Go for it," I gesture with my hand toward the shower and start out of the bathroom, but before I get out, we get caught in the door way, fighting to get around each other and escape the situation. We stop, facing each other chest to chest and I feel my heart clenching uncomfortably in a horrible aching way. Unable to stop myself, I step forward and put my arms around his middle, burying my face in his chest, listening to the erratic thump of his heart. He doesn't push me away, and I can feel his sigh of resignation as his hands settle tentatively over my back. "I'm sorry," I tell him, my voice muffled in his chest. He doesn't answer. He doesn't say anything, but pulls back and looks down at me again. He looks almost human; his eyes warm with something I don't see in them very often.

Compassion.

His hand moves around to toy with a long strand of my hair, hanging over my shoulder, touching it reverently as if it's a fragile thread of silk. _"It's my sick fascination with your hair. I find myself yearning to touch it when you wear it down." _It breaks my heart, making me long for cold, condescending Sheldon. Every second, I pray I'll wake up back in 4B and this will have all been a nightmare. A horrible, sickening nightmare.

I don't wait another second, I _run_. Once I'm safe in my room, I can hear the shower start as I crawl into bed. The gentle murmur of thunder quickly lulls me into a hard, dreamless sleep. At some point in the night, I feel the bed move, but I don't open my eyes to see what it is. If Sheldon needs something, he can figure it out for himself. I'm done screwing things up for people.

When I wake up the next morning, Sheldon is gone and the power is back on. There is a note on the kitchen table, written in Sheldon's neat scrawl.

_Penny,_

_Thank you for your hospitality last evening. Tonight is Pizza Night. Perhaps I'll see you there. _

_Dr. Sheldon Cooper. _

Seriously? I have to wonder for a second if I imagined the whole, you know, _coitus_ thing last night and my alcohol deprived mind has started to play tricks on me or if he's pretending nothing ever happened. I already know the answer, but there's no freaking way my ass is going over to 4A tonight. Every time I look at Sheldon Cooper from now on, I'm going to see him naked in my mind and frankly, I don't want to.

Sheldon isn't some hottie sexual God. I mean, let's be real, he barely lasted five minutes. But that five minutes was the most intense sexual experience I've ever had. There was a strange energy lingering between us the entire time. It felt natural, like we'd done it a thousand times and knew all the right things to do without having to say a word.

And he's my best friend's boyfriend. And my ex's best friend.

Ay Papi.

That's when it hits me. I can't stay here. I can't move back to my beloved 4B, because it's already been taken, and to be honest, the fact that I've been naked with two out of two of the tenants in 4A, is a little creepy for me.

I have to go home. Back to Omaha and the life I worked so hard to escape. Maybe I can save some money and go to New York or something. Anywhere but here. I cannot remain here and continue to ruin my friends' lives.

Even I don't believe myself. I can't leave these people. They saved me. Even Wolowitz and his leering stare. So what now? I stay here and look Amy in the face knowing I've been naked with her boyfriend, Sheldor the Chaste? If I hadn't met the guys, who knows what might've happened? I might have ended up back with Kurt, God forbid. Or I could have ended up pregnant and single like one of the girls I used to work with at The Cheesecake Factory. Shelby got a little frisky with one of the cooks in his car after closing and nine months later, out came little Chino the fourth.

Seriously, it was kind of disturbing. Put Chino's head on that kid's body and it's identical…

The thought of getting knocked up with little Sheldon the second is kind of a horrifying thought, but thankfully, I've been so diligent with taking my birth control, that I have an alarm on my phone now for it. There will be no Cooper spawn inhabiting _this _uterus.

My phone rings, making me jump, tripping a little as I reach for it.

_Amy._

Oh boy.

"Hey Amy!" I say as brightly as I can manage. Luckily, she doesn't seem to notice that I sound like a five year old who just drank Honey Boo Boo's "go-go juice".

"Hi Bestie," She says, but something is off. The normal no-nonsense tone of her voice is missing, replaced with someone who sounds a little unsure of themself. She sounds exhausted. "I'm calling to tell you that Leonard and I are catching an early flight home tomorrow morning." I try to find the will to sound excited, but I mostly feel like I might need to puke again.

"Great! You'll have to tell me all about it," I cringe, wiping my face with my hand.

"I'd rather not," Amy answers, sounding equally defeated, "Leonard got into a fight with his mother when she gushed about his brother getting engaged to a relative of some senator and it hasn't been pretty. I have to say," She went on, "For someone who quite literally wrote a book on parenting, she displays no semblance of maternal instinct. If anything, I could compare her to a schoolyard bully rather than a mother of three."

"Yeah, I can see that," I sigh, feeling a twinge of hurt for poor Leonard as I lean against the wall and feel the betraying sting of tears in my eyes. "I miss you guys. Just get _home."_

"Is everything alright?" Amy asks, perking up and sounding concerned. I blink quickly and compose myself, inhaling slowly.

"Yeah," I lie, "Everything's fine. See you tomorrow."

* * *

It's around six fifteen when I get the call. I'm just getting ready to punch out when my phone goes off and I glance down to see "The Cheesecake Factory" flash over the screen of my iPhone. I start to press the button to ignore the call, but something in my gut tells me I need to answer, so I slide my finger across the glass screen with the Hello Kitty cover on it.

"Hello?"

"Penny, it's Jerry," I hear the apologetic male voice come over the line. I swear, if he tries to ask me to come back there, I will not be held responsible for the rage that comes out of me. "Listen, sorry to bother you, but I kind of have a situation here with one of your friends."

_Oh no._

I don't even have to ask who it is, because it's not Raj, since Raj is working late and Howard is on his way home from Russia as we speak. (And he's Bernadette's problem anyway.) Oh yeah, and Leonard is across the country with Amy. So that leaves one person.

"Jerry, before you go any further answer two questions for me," I say, bracing myself. "Has he offended anyone and are his clothes on his body?" Jerry lets out a small nervous chuckle.

"Well…he hasn't _offended_ anyone, but—" I hear some crackling, sounding like someone is taking the phone from Jerry.

"Penny, were you aware that a Long Island Iced Tea has alcohol in it?" Sheldon's slurred, bleary voice comes through and my mouth falls open in horror. I'm going to _kill_ whoever is bartending in that crap hole. Especially if it's Nicki, the dumbass new girl that started right before they fired me.

"Yep," I answer, heaving a sigh. Damn Raj for working. Damn Howard and Bernadette for being married and settled. Damn Leonard and Amy for being across the country and leaving me alone with Dr. Whack-A-Doodle. "How many have you had?"

"Three and a half," He giggles (yes, you read that correctly). _Ay Papi. _

"Okay, Sheldon," I say firmly, "Here's what we're gonna do. I'm going to come get you and then—"

"It's pizza night, Penny," He slurs, "We gotta go to Giacomo's."

"Yeah, okay," I mutter, "See you in ten minutes. Got it?"

"'Kay," He responds, hanging up before I can say anything else. I clock out and say a quick goodbye to Adam before heading out into the rain and getting into old Bessie, my crap ass car. Luckily, the rush hour traffic is just clearing out, so I get across to The Cheesecake Factory in record time. I say lucky because, by the time I walk in, Sheldon is singing Don't Rain On My Parade with two red hat ladies. Seriously.

And I thought I had nightmares before. Nope.

He waves me over like they've been waiting for me to get here and I wince, reluctantly nodding to Jerry and crossing the room and grabbing the sleeve of Sheldon's long sleeved shirt.

"Hey," He slurs slash sings at me, "This is Penny," he explains to his two blue haired companions. I give a feeble wave.

"Nice to meet you," I mutter, "C'mon Boozy, we got pizza to pick up."

"Aw, but Pearl and Agatha were jus' about to sing All That Jazz," he complains, grinning at me. I stare blankly at him. Is this skinny weirdo the same guy I was nude with on my couch less than twenty-four hours ago? All signs point to yes. With a sigh, I manage to wrangle Dr. Drinks-A-Lot out the door and to my car when he surprises me by taking my hand. Uncomfortably, I snatch it back and guide him into the front seat, buckling his seat belt while he hums something that sounds sort of like All That Jazz.

We grab the pizza and I frown, noticing black clouds on the horizon again, indicating more thunder, which is what got us in this effing mess in the first place. Sheldon is half asleep with his head slumped over a little. He looks so young when he's like that, wet hair plastered to his forehead. It only makes me feel worse. I took advantage of him. I broke every rule in every book.

I have to let him go.

That's my punishment. He and I…we're never going to be anything. He needs Amy. He _wants_ Amy. He doesn't want a silly farm girl with no class. Amy is good for him. More importantly, Amy _deserves_ him. She's smart. Funny. Beautiful. Witty. I'm just a blonde with a decent body who wears too much makeup and shows too much cleavage.

I'm going home. I gave California my best shot and I failed. And that's okay. I'm admitting defeat. I'm never going to be an actress. Some people are meant for great things. I'm not one of those people. I have to face the fact that I am going to end up marrying a local guy in Omaha and being a farm wife like my mother and even my Gran.

And Darcy.

We're all the same. No matter how hard we try to change who we are, we can't change our fate…even if that fate is living the same life our parents live.

Sheldon notices my silence and gives me a sideways look. "Penny for your thoughts?" He chuckles, making me roll my eyes.

"Ha," I respond, pulling into the parking lot. "Just pondering the mysteries of the universe, I guess."

"How could you possibly be doing that?" He asks, getting out of the car and staring languidly up at the falling rain. "You don't have a degree in theoretical physics or a working knowledge of string theory."

"How could I forget?" I reply dryly, following him into the building and starting up the stairs. My eyes drift forlornly to 4B when we reach our floor and I can't help but hate whoever lives in my home. I shake my head, turning back toward 4A and stepping inside as Sheldon stumbles in first. I set the pizza down on the counter and grab the paper plates, backing straight into something. I whirl, finding myself face to face with Sheldon 'Whack-A-Doodle' Cooper. His eyes are blazing.

"You're quiet," He says, almost soberly, "Usually I can't get you to shut up."

"Usually I haven't had coitus with my ex's best friend in the past day," I snap, trying to step around him, but he catches me by the shoulder.

"Your ex's best friend," He says incredulously, looking offended, "Are we not friends? Have I not taken great measures to include you in my social circle? Am I truly nothing more to you than your _ex's_ best friend."

"Sheldon you know that's not what I—"

"Do I?" He asks, sounding angrier than I've heard him, "In some ways, Penny, I should think I would be considered more of a friend to you than Leonard. Was I not the one who came to your rescue when you fell in the shower? And whom, pray tell, did you spend any number of hours complaining about Priya to? Was it Leonard?"

"No, but you complained about Priya just as mu—"

"When Amy wanted to make me happy, whose council did she seek? Was it my _best friend's?_"

"What do you _want _from me, Sheldon?!" I cry, pushing tiredly at his chest. "Don't you think I feel shitty enough about what I did? I took _advantage _of you. And I compromised not only your relationship with Amy, but your friendship with Leonard! I've made such a mess of things, and I don't know what to _do!"_

"Penny, please don't make this about you," Sheldon tells me warily, "And don't patronize me. I am a fully grown man, and as such, responsible for my own indiscretions. You did not do anything I didn't want you to do. Perhaps you can take blame, but if that's the case, then I must admit to the same level of betrayal. And I do. But I'm not sorry, Penny." I glare at him, angry unshed tears sitting in wait at the corners of my eyes.

"Well you _should_ be, you ass," I growl at him, backing up and finding myself cornered against the counter as he moves toward me again, bracing himself on the counter with his hands at either side of me. I refuse to look up at him, into his sincere, guileless blue eyes.

"I know I should be," He agrees, "I'm well aware of social convention and what the consequences of our tryst could be. But I _can't._ All day I've tried to feel guilty over our actions last evening. It's what drove me to drink at The Cheesecake Factory this evening. But," He uses the knuckle of his index finger to tilt my head up so he's glaring into my eyes, "I'm _not_ sorry." His eyes half close as he starts to lean down toward me and I can feel the heat of his sweet, liquor scented breath on my lips and I _want_ to pull away. I try to make myself remember why I should.

But I don't.

I grab the collar of his shirt and drag him against me, feeling his hands remove the hair tie holding my braid together and loosening the plait. It's the most oddly erotic thing I've ever experienced, kissing him while he gently massages my scalp with the tips of his fingers. He pulls away and inhales for a moment.

"Green apple," He murmurs, smiling slightly to himself with his eyes still closed, before closing the distance again and pulling me against his lean form.

Good Lord. If this had happened six years ago, I'd probably be married to the giant nutjob by now. Commitment issues? What the hell is that? I could _deal_ with this for the rest of my life and be happy. I've never kissed anyone and felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. I begin to pull his shirt up when I hear the clicking of the door opening and haul him off of me, stumbling away from him and shaking my head.

"Ooh, pizza!" Raj cries in delight, clapping his hands and crossing toward the counter. "I'm starved!" He doesn't seem to notice Sheldon and I staring at each other in wide eyed realization.

"I have to go," I say sharply, grabbing my keys off of the counter and starting for the door.

"Penny, wait—"

"_No,"_ I growl, "I _have _to _go." _

"Geez," Raj says, sipping his beer and eyeing us, "_Someone _has her panties in a bunch," He quips, chuckling to himself.

Oh, you have no idea, Raj.

"_Bite_ me," I hiss, slamming the door behind me and fleeing for my life and my sanity.

That night, when I'm lying in my bed, listening to the rain slam against the window, I don't think about someone who might be lying in his bed, terrified of the thunder. I don't think about soft bow shaped lips or the faint smell of baby shampoo.

I think about Amy. And I hate myself.


End file.
